


In Plain Sight

by Guri



Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Fix-It, Gen, M/M, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-30
Updated: 2016-09-05
Packaged: 2018-03-04 07:06:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 34,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2956892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Guri/pseuds/Guri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The footsteps of doom shadow the Company of Thorin Oakenshield.  His quest will end in tragedy.  The Valar have forseen it.  They wonder, however, if they have a chance to save it... Just maybe... </p>
<p>In a last ditch effort to gain even the slightest edge against the Shadows the Valar add an unexpected element to the quest; one not of their creation, one who cannot be tracked by their enemies.  </p>
<p>She is that chance.</p>
<p>(formerly 'An Unexpected Guest')</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

A spark. That was all that started it. Its echo carried across all Middle Earth for hours - until it stopped just as suddenly as it started. Some of the few who heard its call could only wonder what it was and where it came from. Despite valiant efforts all searches for the source led to dead ends, and they were forced to moved on. Most forgot about the incident within a few days. Others did not. They knew of its significance, and already began devising a way to utilize its true value. All they had to do was wait. Wait for it to happen again. Lucky for them, all the Valar had in the world was time.

The wait would feel long for some, but it was a mere blink for them. Over a year after the first spark of unknown magic shot across Middle Earth, it happened again. This time they were ready. When the spark was at its brightest, a hand reached into the veil, and pulled its caster through.

They hoped it would be enough.

* * *

Groggy golden eyes peeled open, their owner blinking against glaring light, slowly coming out of what felt like a deep, cloudy sleep. Her head felt like it was encased in warm cotton. In a haze, she gradually pulled herself up, body feeling stiff and bruised as if she had taken a nasty tumble. _'What… What happened…?'_ she wondered, sluggishly taking in her surroundings. Her eyes snapped open in realization. She had no idea where - or even more frightening who - she was. The cottony fog was instantly swept from her mind as panic set in and she scrambled in circles trying to find anything to help. "Hello?! Is anybody out there?! Please, anyone?!" she called. But there was nothing, nothing but wild empty land all around as far as the eye could see. Standing frozen on shaky legs she tried to calm the furious pounding of her heart, knowing panicking would lead to nowhere. _'Alright, alright, alright,'_ she repeated to herself in between deep breaths. _'Let's concentrate on what I do know. I know I am alive. I know I am not hurt… badly.'_ Her body was sore, but most of the stiffness and aches from before had faded. _'I know I'm in a forest. I know I am alone. I know that there's no help… maybe for miles.'_ She stopped herself as her calming thoughts slipped back to fearful ones. _'Okay, okay. I can do this, I can do this!'_ She placed a hand on her stomach. _'I know I'm hungry.'_ She cast an intense gaze into the line of trees before her, flexing her clawed fingers. _'I know I can hunt.'_ Concentrating on a problem she could solve helped ease the fear. Ignoring how the lingering fright caused her limbs to shake, she moved forward into the woods.

Little did the lost visitor know, her first footsteps were the tiny ripples that could become the massive wave that just might change the fate of Middle Earth.

* * *

Some miles away from the wandering stranger a hobbit is swept off his feet and dropped onto the back of a chestnut pony, embarking on journey to go where no hobbit has gone before. He'll never know how, just moments before, his destiny was altered once again. If fate was kind, for the better.

* * *

The stranger wandered for days, searching for any sign of life besides the wild animals she hunted. From dawn to dusk every day her nose was to the ground searching for any sign of a path, a trail, old footprints, anything to lead her to civilization. Worry gnawed at her insides, while the fear of never finding help sat heavy in her gut.

What she didn't realize was that her immediate concerns should have been elsewhere. Her careless movements across the land had attracted unwanted attention from a group of bandits on the run from the law. Their rations ran low as they travelled a long and seldom used route to the next city. Cunning, well-trained eyes searched hard for prey of all kinds, and the stranger's confused steps were too golden an opportunity to pass up. They easily followed her trail, closing in on their prey by the hour while she pressed ever forward, ignorant of the oncoming danger.

One morning the stranger had awoken with a strange sense of optimism and an urge to travel in a particular direction. With nothing else to go on she followed the feeling, the bandits following close behind.

* * *

After around an hour's travel, the stranger's long pointed ears twitched as they caught the distant yet unmistakable sounds of conversation. Though it was no guarantee she had found the help she was looking for, it was more than she had in a week's search. Unwilling to let this lead go, she broke out into a run in the direction of the noise, only ever pausing to perk her ears up and find the sounds again as they got louder and louder. Finally she was close enough to see her quarry and had the good sense to adopt a stealthy approach. It would be rude to startle someone you were going to ask for help. Luckily she was surrounded by trees and ledges, perfect for hidden observation. As the stranger crept closer to the moving group responsible for the racket, she finally was able to get a good look at each of them. There were fifteen in total, all - save for two - very hairy little men astride small horses laden with supplies. Though she had no memories to compare it to, the sight still struck her as odd. But odd or no, it was more than she had ever seen before.

She watched above them from an outcropping as they trailed along on a weaving path and wondered how best to approach them. From the weapons strapped to their backs they appeared to be seasoned warriors, so any way that might surprise them was a no-go. The stranger crouched low amid the trees, studying them with a calculating gaze. Her options were limited. By the time the last one passed her by she decided that the best way would be to approach them with a peace offering; a few rabbits ought to be enough to convince them of her peaceful motivations. She nodded to herself, satisfied. _'This will work,'_ she thought as she sniffed the air to commit their scent to memory. _'It_ has _to; This will_ definitely _work.'_

But at the same time she caught up to the fourteen and their ponies, the bandits that doggedly pursued the stranger had caught up as well. After days of searching, two of the hunters finally spied their quarry among the trees, focused on something they could not see. Lurking behind the brush, they readied themselves. The taller of the two pulled a well-worn bow off his shoulder, then plucked an arrow from his quiver, neatly nocking it into place. Steadily, he took aim. Years of experience made lining up the arrowhead with vital organs child's play.

Just as he was about to release the bowstring in what would have been a quick clean kill, a loud laugh cut through the air and shattered the hunter's concentration. He stumbled, nearly losing his arrow in his surprise. Cursing quietly, he and his companion crept closer to the edge of the cliff where the noise originated, then finally saw what had captured his would-be target's attention.

"Dwarves!" his companion hissed. "What on earth are dwarves doin' all the way out here?" The hunter stared intently down at the dwarves from their perch. He looked back at his original target, but it had already slipped out of his range. He grunted in frustration, but a new scheme was already formulating in his mind.

"Come on, we're going back," he muttered, grabbing the other's arm and pulling him in the direction of their camp. "We've got a new plan now, and we'll need all the others to pull it off."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: rewritten 9/8/16
> 
> Hello archivers! I am here with my third ever attempt at writing a story. I'm a visual artist normally, but I've always appreciated fanfiction and keep wanting to write my own. Unfortunately, It usually ends up with me having to put the story on indefinite hiatus due to class and creative blocks. Still I like to try!  
> I'm kind of nervous posting this story. I have ideas like this all the time but I never have the guts to make them. But I'm twenty-fucking-three and I have to stop being so timid about dumb fun things. Anyway, like I said, I don't write very often. I don't want people to not critique me because of it (quite the opposite), but I'd like them to keep it in mind if they leave feedback.


	2. Chapter 2

The following day while the stranger in a new land caught rabbits for her peace offering, the company trudged onwards. So far, nothing had happened to spoil their trek, and the day passed without incident. By nightfall they stopped to set up camp in a clearing. Gandalf, always the great mystery, insisted that he must go ahead alone, mumbling something about gathering information. He assured them he would be back shortly, at least before they had to leave in the morning, and with that he was gone. Aside from that, it was setting up to be a fairly uneventful day in the course of their journey, not entirely a bad thing really. Evening fell, and the final rays of the sun disappeared past the horizon, signalling an end to their hiking.

Suddenly, as they unpacked by the light of the rising moon and the glow of the newly stoked fire, cloaked figures armed with daggers and swords jumped down from trees and from behind rocks, waylaying the band of travelers. Their number was overwhelming, and more and more continued to materialize out of nowhere. But the dwarves were capable, well trained survivors and held their ground. When it looked like the ambush would be for naught, a pair of frightened cries rang out. To the dwarves dismay several bandits had seized Ori and Bilbo, the most inexperienced members of the company.

"Drop your weapons!" one of the crooks ordered. "Or we'll cut 'em ear to ear!"

Glaring fiercely, the dwarves reluctantly did as they said and raised their arms in surrender. Cruel hands swiftly gathered up the discarded swords and axes before once again slipping back into the shadows. Now helpless, they could only wait and hope for the very best. The more seasoned among them, of course, expected only the worst.

* * *

The visitor in the new land readjusted the conies in her grip as she trotted back to her destination. It had taken her longer than she anticipated to capture what she felt to be enough, as game had been surprisingly sparse that day and the moon had already risen. It didn't bother her too much, as she could easily track them by smell. She followed the fresh trail, eventually spying the glow of a fire. She slowed her pace, steeling herself for what she was about to do. As she got closer, however, she sensed something was amiss. There smell of battle and tension was fresh in the air. She paused before adjusting her course, finding a ledge high enough to hide on but close enough to hear from. Creeping up to the edge on her stomach she peered over, and the sight froze her. The company was captured, two with steel at their necks.

She carefully considered her options, trying to stop the fear from clouding her judgement. If she was to act, she had to keep her head clear to choose just the precise moment to do so. She huffed to herself in exasperation. She _really_ wished she could have stuck with the other plan; it had so much less danger and opportunities for failure. The hidden scout crouched lower, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike.

* * *

Once there was silence and tense cooperation from the captives they were corralled into a half-circle while their ponies were searched. After all that was deemed valuable was collected and dropped into a pile some feet from them, one figure clad in a brown cloak like the rest of his companions stepped forward. He stopped in front of the company's fire, his prisoners secured behind him and the rest of the company before him. He addressed them in a voice mockingly welcoming, eyes still hidden by his hood,

"Greetings weary dwarven travelers! What incredible luck it is for us to cross paths like this. Great fortune indeed! For us, that is, not so much for you." When he spoke his rotting teeth were put in plain view, surrounded by a sallow, unkempt face marred with scars and pocks enhanced by the glow of the flames. It was obvious he led a difficult life littered with depraved behavior. There was little to no honor in him. "Do you know, it was in fact fortune that led us here? Why, we were following the trail of some pretty little thing for quite some time when you all practically fell from the heavens into our laps. Truly, it was a miracle." He tilted his head back and raised his hands to the sky, as if in praise. "Yes indeed, luck appears to be on our side tonight, eh boys? A band of dwarves is always good news to folk like us! Their kind always carries riches with them no matter where they go, greedy little bastards." The insult drew sinister snickering from his accomplices. The incensed dwarves shifted on their feet, barely restraining themselves after the jab at their livelihoods. The captain inspected the company. "Well? Would the leader of this merry band like to step forward and introduce himself?" After a pause, Thorin stepped forward to speak,

"I am Thorin Oakenshield. My company and I are travelers simply heading home after a long journey. We carry little with us, only what we need on our trip. Take it, and leave us be." Thorin hoped this would be enough to deter any more scrutiny from the men, but luck was not on his side that night. The bandit leader tipped his head back, looking down his nose at the dwarf king with a sneer, allowing some light to glint in his cruel eyes.

"Do you expect me to believe that a group of dwarves would travel so lightly, especially one so heavily armed?" The man stepped forward until he was only a foot away from Thorin, then bent on one knee to look him in the eye. "I think not, Thorin Oakenshield. Search them!" he commanded. The bandits began patting the dwarves down, lifting everything that might have even had the slightest worth, adding it to the pile growing on the ground. The man's expression changed to one of cruel contemplation. "You and your kin have a noble bearing to you. It's also quite uncommon for dwarves to associate with members outside their race, and even more rare for little halflings to venture so far from their little holes. None of this adds up to 'simply heading home'. What are you hiding?" The man was smarter than Thorin had hoped. He only crinkled his nose and jutted his jaw out, proud even when captive. The man's expression darkened. "Fine then. Have it your way. Why don't I just ask your friends instead?"

The bandit stood and twisted to Bilbo and Ori, who had been watching the events unfold, helpless with the sharpened steel holding them still. He looked between them for a few moments, choosing his victim. He settled on Ori, a wicked grin growing on his face as he stalked closer to the intended target. Ori himself was no stranger to danger, but it did not mean he was yet immune to fear. The young dwarf attempted to steel his expression to a neutral one, but it was a cracked facade. The bandit kneeled in front of him, pulling out a small rusty blade and waving it in his face. "How about you little one? Would you like to tell me where you're hiding all your riches?" Ori gulped, eyes following the bit of metal anxiously, stealing a glance at his brothers, struggling to keep their composure.

Bilbo had not known these dwarves for more than a few weeks now but he was overcome with an urge to shield the youngest member of the group. Heart thudding, he suddenly spoke up,

"What makes you think he would have an extra stash of treasure? Look at him, he's young and foolish; he probably spent it all in the last town we visited." Bilbo flinched at the harsh words that came out of his own mouth; he hated how ill-mannered he sounded but it was working - perhaps _too_ well. The man quickly turned his attention to the hobbit, corners of his mouth pulled downward. To the surprise of the rest of the company he grabbed Bilbo by the collar and wrenched him from the arms of his comrade and off the ground, knife poking the vulnerable skin under his chin. Hoisted high in the air with the fully standing man, Bilbo stared straight into the bandit's cold grey eyes and hardly breathed, terrified.

"Oh and I suppose _you_ know better than that, _halfling?!_ " he bellowed. He was done playing coy. "I've robbed my fair share of lords and ladies to know you're not just some commoner either. Your clothes are far too fine for sensible travel." His lip curled cruelly, pointing the end of his dagger into Bilbo's neck, drawing a bead of blood from the terrified hobbit. "You nobles are all the same. Now tell me where you're -"

Suddenly a loud, vicious snarl cut through the air, ringing loudly in each ear present. They all wildly swung their heads around, before a second snarl had them turning their heads upward. On top of the tall ledge above Ori and his captors stood a ferocious beast, its lips curling up to reveal sharpened teeth to the surprised collection of men, dwarves and hobbit. It looked most like a wolf, but it was… misshapen. Its neck was longer, and its muzzle and legs were thinner and more spindly than average. Its fur was a bright shiny silver with orange-gold markings on its face, legs, and tail. All of that mattered little, except that it added up to a hunched over monster, growling low and fixing its shining yellow eyes on the bandit leader holding Bilbo.

With one final rumble it leapt at the startled captain. He was knocked to the ground, dropping Bilbo into the dirt with a thud along with his knife. The beast bit into the man's face, arms, and whatever else it could grab in its jaws. His men were frozen with confusion and panic. The dwarves, though equally shocked, recovered and used the distraction to reclaim their stolen weapons, attacking the surrounding outlaws. They would deal with the beast after they got their recompense for their wounded pride.

The crook that held Ori loosened his grip in his shock, and the young dwarf took the opportunity to wriggle out of his grasp and headbutt his captor in the stomach. He fell with a grunt, and Ori happily joined in the fray.

Bilbo was still transfixed by the messy sight before him. The great beast had the villain by his left arm and was digging its teeth deep into his flesh. The bandit chief continued to scream and try in vain to pry it off him, to no avail. Only when the cloaked figure jerked his arm to the side in attempt to throw the beast to little effect did the hobbit seem to come to his senses. Seeing as how he was the only one in the company with utterly no experience with the art of combat, he snatched the dagger that had been at his throat moments before and scrambled away from the center of the fight to the edge. He desperately wondered what he could do to assist the dwarves before settling with making a few reckless stabs at enemies before dodging away and hoping they wouldn't chase.

Where Bilbo left the leader remained, still struggling against the great beast. It didn't appear to be keen on releasing his arm any time soon, so he resorted to other methods. He carried more than one blade on his person, and he swung his free arm down to his pocket, pulling out a small knife and swinging it at the face of his attacker. But it was too quick for him and he sliced through air instead of flesh, missing it by centimeters. The monster snarled at him before grabbing the hand that held the knife in its mouth and biting down hard. The pain tore a yell from his mouth and he blindly struck out with his opposite arm to hit the creature. It growled again and grabbed the front of the bandit leader's tunic, launched its front half into the air and slammed him back down to the earth, stunning him.

Despite his dazed state the man was determined to fight. He shoved himself off the ground and lunged at the creature. It dodged and he fell back to the ground, but recovered enough to push himself to his knees and swing. It ducked and weaved his clumsy blows for a few moments before crouching again, then launching itself at him. It latched its jaws onto his throat and held tight. As a last act of desperation he clawed at its face but it was for naught. Within seconds he stilled. It dropped him at the last sign of life and stared down at his body for a few moments. The whole fight took at most a minute. It gazed at the bandit a bit more before it shook its head and turned to scope out new targets. It locked onto another man and jumped.

With their leader dead the rest of the bandits fell into disorder and the dwarves were quickly gaining the upper hand. It would have gone on longer, if Gandalf hadn't chosen that moment to conveniently return with a bang, casting a spell to repel all the remaining men. The cloaked cowards fled, defeated. In all the battle was won in a minute or two, and the victorious company escaped with minor cuts and bruises, many of which were already being attended to by the insistent healer Óin. Bilbo tried to rejoin the group with little fanfare, but when he was spotted he was scooped up into the jovial celebrating. So caught up with congratulating themselves almost all forgot the reason they gained the upper hand in the conflict: the beast. All but one that is. After making sure that his comrades were unhurt Thorin Oakenshield turned to the oddity in their camp, a serious look in his eyes.

Said oddity was currently sitting quietly many yards away from them, pensively observing the dwarves among the chaotic field.

* * *

After the battle was over and the members of the company turned their attention toward her one by one the wolf creature thought back to when this whole mess started, to regain her bearings and calm herself. While she waited for the chance to attack, she listened as the bandit leader gloated, hearing how the men had found them. After that, there was no chance she was just going to sit and wait around, otherwise the little one would have been hurt, and she just couldn't bear to have an innocent harmed because of her carelessness. Hearing that the men had been following her, apparently for days, left her absolutely mortified. She had to save face somehow.

She had attempted to show the man mercy despite his offenses, but he made it difficult. The beast was hoping to exhibit restraint as a show of good will, but the bandit's persistence left her with no choice. The wolf finished him off and moved on to other targets, doing what she could to avoid any more deaths. She saw the little one's fear, and regretted frightening him, but thought that it was better he was afraid and alive than dead and feeling nothing.

Her trip down memory lane over, the wolf now faced the apprehensive figures steeled for another battle, but this time against her.

She really, really wished she had those rabbits with her now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: rewritten 9/8/16
> 
> Nothing to say for now, if you made it this far thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

Thorin Oakenshield eyed the beast warily. So far it had made no move to attack; it just sat next to their forgotten fire, staring at them with wide yellow eyes. He knew that it had essentially rescued their burglar, but wolves were not considered trustworthy creatures and he wasn't about to take a chance.

"That beast is unnatural!" Dori hissed to his comrades, not looking away from the wolf.

"Are you sure it's a wolf? It looks... different," Kili wondered, a perplexed expression on his features.

"Does it really matter? You saw how it fought, it could be a demon for all we know," Fili countered.

"Aye. Can't take any chances with things like this." Dwalin agreed. He nodded to the young noble, "Kili, shoot it between the eyes." Kili lifted his bow only a few inches before Bilbo stepped up and stopped him, putting his hand in front of the dwarf.

"Now wait a moment, just wait!" he stood partially between Kili and his target, not quite brave enough to turn his back to the wolf despite his intrusion. "This creature quite possibly saved my life, doesn't that count for something? And for that matter did it ever move to attack any of you? Come to think of it, I only ever saw it go after those awful rogues." His words initiated a round of murmurs and whispers amongst the dwarves, asking each other if the creature ever come after them. Thorin however would not be swayed.

"It does not matter. Dwalin's right; we cannot risk this beast acting as a spy. It must be put down," Thorin declared. Gandalf, who had been watching the exchange in contemplative silence, huffed in exasperation then stepped forward, addressing the king.

"Really now, is this how the 'King Under the Mountain' shows his gratitude?" He continued walking in the direction of the wolf.

"What do you think you're doing?" Dori called. "Gandalf!"

"I am going to thank this creature for it's assistance, since you all have clearly forgotten how to be courteous," he called behind him. "Do keep an ear open for trouble; wouldn't want to get caught in another ambush, would we?" In truth, the grey wizard was not entirely trustful of the beast either, but he had a hunch, and he did enjoy irritating Thorin. He schooled his expression into one of friendliness and covered the remaining area between him and the mysterious wolf before him.

* * *

The wolf listened to the conversation happening in front of her intently, hoping they would decide to trust her. She realized that things were not ending up in her favor, and nearly bolted the instant she heard one tell the other to shoot her. But she forced herself to remain still; she needed their help. Her restraint was rewarded, and to her relief the little one she assisted earlier came to her defense. However, despite his endorsement, his leader wasn't convinced. Before she made her escape, the tall one declared his intentions. _'Finally,'_ she mentally sighed.

Keeping her head down for a non-threatening posture, she watched as the tall one approached, then halted a safe distance from her. He smiled.

"Greetings, white one. I am Gandalf the Grey. I have come to give my deepest thanks for your assistance in defending my friends from those wicked men. I am most grateful." He bowed slightly and she did the same in acknowledgment, nervous all the same. She realized much too late how ludicrous her plan had been; how could she ever tell them exactly what she needed without scaring them enough to disregard questions and simply attack? What a fool she'd been.

After mentally cursing her shortsightedness she looked back up at Gandalf, noticing with a start that she sidetracked herself. Her full attention back on the tall one, who had been studying her while she was distracted, she attempted to convey sentience and an urgent need for assistance through her eyes and limited expression. A low whine escaped her jaws. Gandalf appeared perplexed at first, then intrigued. His brow furrowed in thought.

"I sense that you are trying to communicate something very important to me, but alas I am not as adept at communicating with animals as well as some others are." He shuffled closer and kneeled, putting out a hand. The action stirred the group behind him slightly, but they made no further moves. "However, if you will permit me, I may be able to try something to weaken our communication barrier." He gazed at her, waiting for a signal.

The white wolf looked at his outstretched hand, then back at his eyes. So far, this one had not made any threats toward her and she was running out of options. She had to trust him. She inched forward and carefully put her head underneath his hand, stopping short of touching it. Gandalf smiled reassuringly, then placed his palm on the spot between her ears. He saw the barest flashes of memory, but they were sparse and only showed her life in the past few weeks. They were somewhat useful, but what he was really after were her were intentions, thoughts, emotions; using his abilities he could read them easily. He also caught something hard to describe. There was an underlying urgency that was not her own, and an impression that urged him to let her join them. He knew better than to disregard senses like that. Only a minute passed when the grey wizard lifted his hand, satisfied.

"I had a feeling you were of no threat to us when I first observed you following us days ago," he chuckled, eyes twinkling.

 _'Oh, you noticed that did you...'_ the wolf thought, looking sheepish with ears flattened against her head. Gandalf stood and turned to face his friends and announce his findings:

"She is of no danger to us. She is capable of rational thought, and is in fact in need of our assistance. Considering the aid she lent you all earlier – especially you, Bilbo Baggins – I would say you are in her debt," he declared. The grey pilgrim turned to look down at her and said, "Come along my dear, its time you were properly introduced," before marching back to the stunned dwarves. They only were bewildered into silence for seconds before erupting into shouts.

"You've got to be joking!"

"There's no way I'll let a wolf spy near me!"

"Have you gone _mad,_ Gandalf?!"

And so on. The wizard, having anticipated this opposition, waved his hand in disregard. The wolf, at first too shocked to move, tentatively followed. She strategically placed herself behind Gandalf, peering around his gray robes at all of the angry faces while Gandalf attempted to quiet them. When he managed to quell the noise enough to get a few words in, he argued, "Quiet down now; this is no way to treat an ally. Quiet!" They grudgingly did as he said. When they were still, he turned once again to the wolf, "Now, my dear, let me introduce you to the company." He began listing off names, pointing to each as he did. "There's Bilbo Baggins, who you greatly assisted earlier to my understanding, thank you for that," Bilbo smiled nervously behind the others and gave a quick bow, "Fili and Kili, Óin and Glóin, Bifur, Bofur..." and so on, until he came to the last dwarf. "...And finally, the leader of our company, Thorin Oakenshield, soon to be 'King Under the Mountain'." Thorin only glowered intensely at her. She nearly flinched under his gaze, but her pride overrode her fear. Gandalf continued, tone underscoring his message: "We are on a mission of grave importance. I believe that you would be of great assistance to us, and we may be able to do the same for you. Will you accompany us on our quest?"

At that Thorin stepped forward, having had enough of Gandalf's absurdities. He firmly grabbed the wizard's forearm and curtly said, "Gandalf, a word," before pulling him away. Gandalf only managed a quick 'excuse me' to the wolf before being dragged away. The others parted to let them through, then filled in again to create a veritable wall between her and so far the only one who believed in her motivations. They glared down at her. She sat down again, beginning to feel very tired of this constant back and forth.

Once out of earshot Thorin got right to the point, speaking in rough whispers: "What are you thinking? This mission is at enough risk as it is without a _spy_ in our ranks." Gandalf was undeterred.

"I have read her through and through. There is no wickedness in her heart."

"I cannot take that risk Gandalf. I already agreed to take on that halfling as a liability; I refuse to gamble any more."

"But think of what you can gain with her on your side! She is strong, cunning, and her senses are just as adept as any creature's. She can help us." Thorin turned his back on Gandalf, his mind made up. "Thorin!" Gandalf called, "I did sense a darkness about her," Thorin looked over his shoulder at this, "but it was not in her heart." Thorin did not move, but did not interrupt. "I feel... I feel that something will happen along this journey. Something disastrous." The dwarf king looked back fully at the grey wizard as he spoke, something in his expression changing. "I cannot explain it fully, but while I was reading her there was an ominous warning in my mind. There will be dire consequences if we do not allow her to join us," Gandalf explained gravely. Thorin looked down, considering his words very carefully. After a minute, he finally looked at the wizard in the eyes.

"Fine." Gandalf sighed in relief. "But mark my word, if it ever shows any sign of betrayal I will not hesitate to cut it down." With that, he stalked past the smiling wizard. As he walked away, Gandalf called after him,

"I should hope that your doubting my council does not become a habit in the future, Thorin Oakenshield."

"And I should hope that testing my patience does not become yours," the dwarf retorted.

When he rejoined the rest of his companions they gave their full attention, eagerly awaiting their leader's instructions. He hesitated, as if doubting his own decision. "The wolf... can join us." Several noises of disbelief were heard, and the wolf perked her ears up, a spark of surprised happiness filling her; Thorin ignored them all. He stepped through the wall of dwarves to look the creature in the eyes, but did not say anything. She shifted uneasily. He broke the eye contact and trudged away. "Get some rest, all of you. I will take first watch." At the command, the dwarves slowly separated, each with their own expression of doubt, confusion, and mistrust on their faces. She watched them go, still sitting in place, unsure of what to do next. Gandalf soon approached her, smiling.

"Come my dear, why don't I show you where you can rest tonight." He leaned down, lowering their voice to a whisper as she stood to follow him, "Do not take Thorin's attitude to heart; it will take time to gain his trust." She looked down at the ground, thinking. Suddenly, she jerked her head up, realizing something she forgot. She looked up to Gandalf, making a kind of 'wait here' gesture with her paw. She quickly turned around and, with a confused Gandalf watching her go, hurried past the fire to the ledge she first jumped from and scrambled upwards.

The company, all acutely aware of her presence, paused in their actions to watch her warily. When she reached the top they could not see what she was doing, they could only make out her crouching form. When she turned back to climb back down, they could see she had something in her mouth. It was only when she was next to the fire that they saw she brought down three plump rabbits, which she laid proudly on the ground before her. She beamed proudly at her gift. The dwarves could only gape, baffled.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lemme know if there's any mistakes or something sounds dumb. Thanks for checking it out!


	4. Chapter 4

While they were still leery about the wolf's presence in their company, the dwarves weren't the kind to turn down free food. They postponed sleep to make rabbit stew and a little quasi-rabbit jerky for the road. While cooking they discreetly eyed her, as if afraid they would be poisoned somehow. After they each got their shares (except Thorin, who bluntly declined and remained on watch) and had a few hesitant tastes with no one keeling over, they eagerly devoured their meals with gusto. The wolf ate the slowest, preoccupied in trying to discern everyone's reactions. Gandalf sat by her and smoked his pipe. Sensing her tension, pat her back in comfort.

"I believe your gifts were a wise choice; the easiest way to a dwarf's good graces is through his stomach," he chuckled. She relaxed, and yawned. The day was tough but productive, and she needed rest. She laid her head down on her paws, sleep finding her easily. Her first day of traveling as a real member of the company instead of just someone watching from afar began tomorrow.

* * *

Bilbo did not know what to make of the wolf in all honesty. Thorin made his stance clear from the start and did not appear to intend on backing down from it anytime soon. Gandalf was of the completely opposite opinion, believing her to be a force of good and sticking by that idea. The other's opinions, including his, all fell somewhere in the middle of the spectrum. She _had_ risked her life to save his, and did bring them a peace offering, but he did not know. There was some instinct in his mind keeping him from implicitly trusting a wolf. Many of the stories told to him as a lad featured their kind as evil villains, and for good reason. Wolves were known to align themselves with the enemies of the free peoples of Middle Earth. He puffed his pipe in thought, belly full of rabbit stew. _'Well,'_ he thought, having come to a decision, _'I am nothing if not a gentlehobbit; she did me a great service by saving my life and that is worthy of a chance.'_ Bilbo nodded to himself, put out his pipe, and readied himself for bed. The hobbit was followed shortly by the rest of the company, each falling asleep one by one until only the dwarf king was left on guard under the stars, vigilantly watching for attack from any enemy, outside and inside the camp.

* * *

The next day began for the company as they had been the past several weeks: wake at dawn, prepare and eat a quick breakfast, pack up and head out on their ponies. Curiously, they had not fled during the previous night's attack nor did they appear to mind the newest addition to their group, who ambled along, sticking closest to Gandalf.

The wolf kept up with them easily, only pausing to sniff at the ground or some plant on occasion and listening when the wizard commented to her about something. The rest of the dwarves were relatively quiet at first, making a casual remark occasionally, asking a question when they felt it necessary, or just speaking in hushed whispers to each other, sneaking suspicious glances at the wolf while doing so. She took it all in stride, expecting this kind of behavior.

The hush-hush conduct kept up for a few days, but the dwarves quickly became tired of the secrecy and grew used to the wolf's presence amongst them. The leery looks eventually stopped and all but a few slowly warmed up to her. For example: Gloin sometimes sat within six feet of her, Bombur actually brought bowls of food to her instead of leaving them on the ground or relying on the grey wizard to deliver them, and Balin even acknowledged her while having conversations with Gandalf.

Finally, after five days of acclimation, they realized that they did not know what to call her. Bofur asked Gandalf if he could inquire what her name was to remedy this situation, but Gandalf knew that she barely any memory of herself after searching her mind when the met. After Gandalf relayed that information, several of the dwarves exchanged looks with each other. Kili and Fili spoke up.

"No name? Well that won't do!"

"Yes, I suppose we'll have to give you one won't we?"

Thus began the quest to find a name suitable for a wolf. Thorin rolled his eyes from his position in the front of the line. Balin grinned from his position beside him.

"We're experts when it comes to names, isn't that right Bungo?" Kili cooed, scratching his pony's neck and looking back at the gold and white wolf with an impish twinkle in his eye that mirrored his brother's.

"What about something simple, like 'Snowy'?" Fili added next.

"Or perhaps something more accurate, like 'Rancid'?"

She firmly shook her head at each idea, glaring at the brothers as their suggestions got even more and more ridiculous. Soon the other dwarves joined in with their own proposed names, offering Khuzdul suggestions which she highly suspected were just more insults judging by how they laughed.

The nameless wolf groaned. If this was what it was like to be accepted into the group maybe she preferred being feared.

"What about 'Isil'?" Gandalf offered lightly, taking pity on the hapless wolf. "It translates to 'moon' in the Common Tongue." She considered it, liking how the word rolled off the tongue in her mind. She puffed her chest out and stood a little taller, repeating it in her head. _'Isil,'_ she thought, _'I really like the sound of that. Very fitting.'_ She grinned and nodded to the wizard, approving the name. Gandalf chuckled at her display.

"I still like my idea better," Kili sniffed while the others mumbled amongst themselves. The freshly dubbed Isil ignored them all and pondered over her new name. Strangely, she had never even noticed that she had no name until now. _'Oh well. Doesn't matter now I suppose.'_ The wolf's pace picked up, new energy pulsing through her veins. In spite of her strange predicament, Isil's spirits were high and she felt she was ready to take on anything.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter I know, but things have gotten a little rough on my end. Hopefully I'll have the next chapter written soon but who knows now. I had a little trouble with her name, but I don't want to fuss with it anymore.


	5. Chapter 5

In the fourth week since they left the Shire with a new burglar, the company of Thorin Oakenshield listen to Balin tell the tale of how their king earned his name as they lay resting. All of them, especially Isil and Bilbo, as they are outsiders to the dwarves world, are enthralled by the tragically triumphant tale. They stand around Thorin in awe. A surge of loyalty and devotion awoke within their hearts, visibly strengthening their resolve.

Little did they know that they were being watched by a foul creature on another cliff out of their sight. It barks out an order to inform its master, then turns its glare back to the company, growling low in its throat.

* * *

The next day, the group finds itself caught in a heavy rainfall. They trudge on. Isil was so caught up in her own irritation she almost didn't hear when Bilbo asked about any other wizards after Dori first implored Gandalf to try to give them more pleasant weather. She tried to listen carefully, genuinely interested. She only caught the name 'Radagast' and heard how he preferred the company of animals to people before a rather large droplet of water dropped from a tree and landed square on her face. She growled in agitation, too distracted to hear much else of what Gandalf had to say.

* * *

Elsewhere, a wizard saves his beloved hedgehog friend from certain death, and discovers the beginnings of an evil plot to return from the dead.

* * *

The next few days were relatively uneventful. They traveled, traded stories, ate, and generally bonded as a team.  Bilbo's favor within the company increased as time passed, but they couldn't quite get past Isil's beastly appearance and kept her at arm's length, though their outward demeanor was friendly. Despite this, they did not hesitate to take advantage of her skills within the group: hunting game in-between camps, utilizing her nose to search for herbs and spices, using her sharp hearing to watch for danger from far away. She wished they could be more open, but there was little to be done about it except moving forward. 

Gandalf often passed the time each night by telling her the histories of Middle Earth Isil absorbed all their words and thoughts like a sponge, wishing she could speak to them in turn. She would prove her worth for now by listening and helping where she was needed.

Eventually they reached an abandoned farmhouse on a grassy cliff at the base of a mountain. Looking out at the low-hanging sun on the horizon, Thorin ordered his company to halt.

"We'll camp here for the night. Fili, Kili, look after the ponies. Make sure you stay with them." As Thorin delegated instructions, Gandalf inspected the dilapidated structure with a troubled expression.

"A farmer and his family used to live here..." he said absently.

Isil stood next to the wizard, the same concerned look on her face. The house looked like it had been crushed by something massive and a foul scent permeated the earth and air. She didn't like this place. Gandalf crinkled his nose and turned from the broken home. Isil smelled the air one last time before following.

"I think it would be wiser to move on," he advised. "We could make for the Hidden Valley." The dwarf king curled his lip in disgust.

"I have told you already, I will not go near that place," he spat.

"Why not? The elves could help us. We could get food, rest, advice." Gandalf countered. Isil's eyes darted between the two, confused. What was wrong with the Hidden Valley? She looked around to the others as the two continued their back and forth. The dwarves all had different variations of distaste written in their faces, some more severe than others. Bilbo, adding to her confusion, looked almost hopeful.

The wolf listened as Thorin listed his grievances against the elves, metaphorically putting his foot down. Gandalf attempted one last time to sway him, clearly loosing patience.

"You are neither of them," he started, knowing the stubbornness of the dwarf king's line. "I did not give you that map and key for you to hold on to the past."

"I did not know that they were yours to keep," Thorin retorted, scowling up at the wizard. Gandalf sputtered, recoiling in frustration. He angrily stomped past the dwarf and away from the rest of the company. Bilbo called out to him,

"Everything alright? Gandalf, where are you going?"

"To seek the company of the only one around here who's got any sense," the wizard replied.

"Who's that?"

"Myself, Mr. Baggins! I've had enough of dwarves for one day." He waved his hand in the air as he stalked off, not looking back. "Come along, Isil!," he barked. The wolf hesitated, quickly looking at the faces staring back at her from the corners of her eyes before hurrying off to follow the wizard. The rest of the company watched them both go, Bilbo worriedly asking if Gandalf would come back.

When she caught up to him, Isil looked up at the wizard in concern. He did not acknowledge her, just mumbled angrily to himself about foolish kings. She looked behind her at the quickly disappearing view of the others, who already resumed setting up camp. The wolf felt unease grow in her mind; this could end very badly for them.

* * *

Gandalf slowed down hours several later with most of his anger cooled to a low burn. Isil hoped to never get on his bad side; he could hold a grudge. He had been mumbling to himself the entire way, only acknowledging her to punctuate one of his own arguments. While he was walking she kept glancing back in the direction of the camp, feeling that something was going to happen if they weren't there. She wanted to return to watch over them in that foreboding place. Gandalf finally sat down on a rock, tapping his staff on the ground to prompt a warm glow to emanate from the stone at its tip. By this time the moon had risen and the stars twinkled over them. He was still mumbling to himself as he pulled out his pipe and leaves, deciding to calm down with a smoke. Isil sat down in front of him, trying to come up with a way to convince him to turn back. When is pipe was lit and burning softly, he finally addressed the wolf directly, waving his pipe in her direction,

"The nerve of that blasted dwarf! Too stubborn to give up those old ridiculous grudges and see reason. Lord Elrond is probably the only one who can give him accurate directions not only _how_ to get _exactly_ where he wants to be, but _when_ to be there and _where_ to go!" Gandalf puffed furiously, smoke briefly obscuring his face. "The fool will drive his own endeavor into the ground for the sake of his own damnable pride." He took a few more long draws from his pipe, eyes set ahead in thought. Isil leaned forward, putting her paw on his knee and drawing a low whine from her throat, bright yellow eyes pleading at him to consider turning back.

"I will not go back! See how well they fare without a wizard to save them from their own foolish choices." He stared right back at her, unmoved by her actions. She shook her head, then looked back and whined again, face imploring. _'They may be fools,'_ she agreed in her mind, _'stubborn, frustrating, and often childish to an unbelievable level. But they're also noble and determined and brave and they need guidance.'_

Gandalf scrutinized her expressions closely. Isil hoped that her thoughts were conveyed adequately on her face. After a full minute of study he sighed.

"I suppose that Thorin is still young... and desperate to reclaim his homeland with his family honor intact." Isil inclined her head, a grin forming on her muzzle. "And I suppose the others are only trying to prove their loyalties to him by standing by his half-witted choices. Hmm. Fine. I'll get them to Lord Elrond one way or the other." The wizard reluctantly stood with Isil cheerfully following. "Now then," he brushed himself off, "knowing them those miserable dwarves have without a doubt already gotten themselves into trouble." With that, they were hiking back to the company of Thorin, who had most certainly gotten themselves into a heap of trouble. Lucky for them a cunning hobbit knew how to stall for time.

* * *

"Oh for goodness sakes," Gandalf huffed from his and Isil's hiding place behind a thicket. Of course they had to have encountered a horde of trolls so far from where they were usually found. Of course. "Mountain trolls. Here! Of all places." Isil stared at the gigantic monstrosities holding her companions captive. A low growl rumbled from her chest, but she clamped down on it, not wanting to be discovered. She looked to Gandalf, wondering how they were going to get them all out of this mess.

The wizard stayed low, waiting for his opportunity. Suddenly Bilbo spoke up, taking his own chances after overhearing one of them mention the sunrise.

"Wait! You are making a terrible mistake." Gandalf chuckled quietly at the hobbit's interruption.

"There's a good lad, Bilbo Baggins! Quick thinking." Gandalf looked down to her. "Come along, my dear. Here's what we'll do." He quickly went over his plan while they rushed into position. Bilbo had just exclaimed to the trolls that the dwarves were riddled with parasites when the two got to the place Gandalf deemed best.

The first blush of daylight was just minutes away judging by how fast the sky was lightening, but the large boulder before them was blocking it. Gandalf assured Isil that he would take care of it but he needed more time. He instructed her to stall the monsters, and began preparing his spell. Isil could hear relations breaking down behind the rock, and rushed into the brush to provide assistance.

"You think I don't know what you're up to?" one of the giants bayed. "This little ferret is taking us for fools!"

"Ferret?!" the hobbit repeated indignantly. Before the giant brute could grab hold of Bilbo, Isil let out a thundering snarl from behind a thicket that seemed to come from all directions, startling them all. Bilbo caught a flash of a familiar golden face in the brush, and felt relief wash over him. They could get out of this, they just needed more time. The trolls and dwarves' heads swiveled wildly around, looking for the source of the awful sound.

"What in blazes was _that?!_ " one of them fearfully exclaimed.

"What was what?" Bilbo asked, tilting his head in false confusion.

"Whaddya mean 'what was what'? Th-that horrible noise is what was what!" the other squeaky troll sputtered, still searching.

"I'm afraid I've no idea what you're talking about," Bilbo replied, shaking his head. The dwarves, to his utter relief, kept their mouths shut this time and didn't muck up the plan. Just a few more minutes and they could all be out of this.

"Are you telling me that you couldn't hear that awful sound just now?" the first troll asked incredulously while stomping up to the hobbit and pointing behind him. Bilbo only shrugged, shaking his head again. At that point a low, reverberating growl was heard all around them, slowly growing in intensity. It seemed to be moving, circling the troll's encampment.

"We're surrounded!" the squeaky one cried.

After cowering for a few seconds with his comrades third troll appeared to regain his courage, grabbing his ladle and holding it above his head like a weapon.

"I ain't afraid of no little beastie too scared to come out and fight! One more mouthful for the spit, I say!" He waved his utensil wildly, spinning around frantically to find the source of the fearsome growls. He saw a streak of white dart behind a bush. "Ah!" He pointed in the direction he saw it go. "You hear me? I'll take you down and cook you whole, you little rat!"

"The dawn will take you all!" Gandalf bellowed, standing on the boulder. Isil jumped from the brush to join him, letting out one more piercing snarl. As the baffled trolls wondered aloud who the blazes they were, the grey wizard struck the rock with his staff, cleaving it in two and allowing the golden light to shine through. The second the rays touched the behemoths their skin cracked and began to harden, howling in agony as the glowing beams transformed them to stone. Bilbo sighed in relief, the tension in his posture visibly loosening. The dwarves cheered in triumph from their burlap sacks until Dwalin let his discomfort on the spit be known.

The sun was only a little higher in the sky by the time the company was freed from their fabric fetters. They collected their discarded weapons and supplies while Gandalf inspected each new statue, thumping one on the head in amusement. Isil walked near him, baring her teeth in victory at each troll. Gandalf patted her on the head when she came close, grateful for the short respite in danger.

"Where did you go to, if I may ask?" Thorin asked, stalking over to him.

"To look ahead," Gandalf replied.

"What brought you back?"

The wizard glanced down at Isil with a knowing look. She smirked at him. "Looking behind. Nasty business. Still, they are all in one piece."

"No thanks to your burglar." Gandalf looked almost offended at that.

"He had the nous to play for time. None of the rest of you thought of that." Thorin had the decency to look contrite. Gandalf went back to examining the remains of the trolls.

"They must have come down from the Ettenmoors," the wizard remarked.

"Since when do mountain trolls venture this far south?"

"Oh, not for an age," Gandalf's expression grew serious, "not since a darker power ruled these lands." At that, they both looked at each other meaningfully. "They could not have moved in daylight."

"There must be a cave nearby," Thorin deduced. After a cursory search of the hills they found the troll's rotting hoard of ill-gotten gains. The company retched and coughed as they entered the reeking cavern. They rifled through the loot amassed by the monsters for whatever reason and took what they found useful, even buried some gold 'for safekeeping', as they called it when given questioning looks. Feeling that there was no more that they could do there, Thorin ordered them out. Gandalf, having found a blade a suitable size for Bilbo, hands it to him as they leave. Once he finishes telling the hobbit about courage and passing judgement, he goes to stand next to Isil, who elected not to enter the stinking, putrid cave.

Isil closed her eyes and shuddered in disgust, back turned from the mouth of the cavern. She refused to fry her sensitive nose in that fetid place. Besides, she loathed the idea of dirtying up her fur any more than she already had. She opened one eye when she felt the wizard join her.

"I apologize my dear, I couldn't find anything that might be of use to you in there." He groaned as he sat down. Isil was just fine with that; she had gone this far without any equipment without any problems, she might as well continue on in the same fashion.

Without warning her ears shot straight up. She heard a loud rustling and could feel a vibration through her paws.

"Something's coming!" Thorin warned. Gandalf sprang up and called them into action. Isil followed him as he directed them all to a more strategic area. She and the others all prepared themselves for battle, waiting for the threat to spring, whatever it may be. From the north, they could hear the peril barreling toward them with great force. The company could only steel themselves for whatever it was. Isil crouched low to the ground, a growl resonating from behind her teeth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slightly longer chapter than normal because most of the problems I've been encountering in my life have sort of cleared up, so that's good! Hopefully I'll have the next chapter out in the next few days; I start classes again soon.


	6. Chapter 6

Weapons were at the ready when to their surprise a pack of rabbits leapt over the ledge dragging a manned sled behind them. As the figure drew closer the incoherent shouting morphed into panicked cries of warning.

"Thieves! Fire! Murder!" the figure yelled. A look of recognition spread across Gandalf's face.

"Radagast! Radagast the Brown. Ah." He stepped closer to his friend. "What on earth are you doing here?" The company collectively relaxed as Radagast stumbled through his explanation. Isil's shoulders dropped and she stopped paying attention to the two, needing a moment to calm her heart. She took this time to examine her companions to make sure they were ok and noticed Bilbo appeared especially relieved that Radagast turned out to not be an enemy. She frowned. He would need to learn how to defend himself eventually; she gathered that much on this journey. He couldn't rely on his uncanny luck forever. Isil hoped one of the others would realize this too and teach him how to wield a sword. She caught a strange motion from the corner of her eye and turned just in time to watch Gandalf pull a bug off of Radagast's tongue. She flinched and made a soft noise of disgust.

The sound appeared to catch the strange wizard's attention and caused him to notice Isil for the first time. A surprised 'Oh!' was her only warning before he swooped in for an up close and personal, hands-on examination of the startled wolf. Radagast was relentless, poking and prodding her all while peppering the amused Gandalf with questions.

"Who's this now eh? What a lovely creature! Where did you find her?" He pried her eyelids open to study the yellow irises. "Ah yes, yes..." He moved away to pull back her lips and inspect her teeth, "Teeth sharp and healthy... good, good..." The bizarre wizard even wrenched her maw open and practically put his whole head in her mouth to look down her throat. "Wonderful! This creature is in fine shape, fine shape indeed," he declared. Isil was too dumbfounded to even react. Her eyes swiveled to Gandalf, silently pleading for help. The grey wizard only laughed quietly. She narrowed her gaze. _'Laugh now, you traitor. Hope you sleep well tonight; we'll see how funny things are when I steal that stupid hat right off your head!'_ She heard the others chuckle as well; they all seemed to find this whole situation very comical. She'd get them all back.

Gandalf finally took pity on Isil and cleared his throat, getting Radagast's attention as he hugged the wolf's back to his ear, checking for any irregularities of her innards. The brown wizard peered up at him.

"I believe you had something very important to tell me? Something you came all this way to say?" Radagast seemed to realize where he was. He put Isil down (to which she was grateful) and pulled Gandalf aside to warn him of Dol Guldur.

Isil stalked off to the fringes of the group to lick her wounded pride. All the dwarves milled about anxiously while the wizards conferred, anxiously waiting for the signal to leave. Bofur however could not resist antagonizing the wolf just a bit more.

"Aye, you all checked out, lassie?" he asked, approaching the ruffled canine seated with her back turned to him. She swiftly met his gaze, challenging him to continue. He unwisely did. "Sure you don't need another thorough once-over?" the jovial dwarf laughed. Isil growled; a warning. Bofur took no notice and began to mimic Radagast's actions, poking and prodding her face and neck while making comments about 'health' and 'being in good, fine shape'. Isil crouched in wait, then sprang! She snatched the silly cap right off the dwarf's head and landed neatly behind him. Bofur was dazed only for a second before giving chase.

The wolf deftly ducked and dodged him and even used the others as springboards when they tried to help their comrade, laughing and appreciating the recreation. After some minutes of play it became very obvious that Isil was uncatchable. She stood triumphantly atop a mossy rock, far above her pursuers with the hat still clenched between her jaws. She looked smugly down at the offender, as he finally bowed in defeat.

"Alright, alright! I yield!" Bofur breathlessly laughed, leaning on Bilbo for support. She tossed the bit of clothing down to him, chest puffed out in victory. "Oh, you got teeth marks in it!" he wailed. She only chuffed happily.

The moment of mirth was short lived, and a grisly howl pealed through the trees, cutting through the company's good humor.

"Was that a wolf? Are th-there other wolves out there?" Bilbo squeaked.

"Wolves? No, that is not a wolf," Bofur replied, voice on edge. Almost immediately two gigantic, monstrous wargs charged the company, aiming to tear them to bits. They were swiftly dealt with, but they knew there were more to come. Ori, Bifur, and Oin ran down the hill to report that their ponies had fled, leaving them vulnerable. Radagast's offer to draw them away was rebuffed immediately on the grounds that the wargs would outrun them, but he wouldn't back down.

"These are Rhosgobel Rabbits!" he insisted. "I'd like to see them try."

* * *

Isil waited behind the rocks for the signal to flee along with the rest of the company, her heart pounding against her ribs. When Radagast and the wargs were far enough they moved, sprinting to each hiding place as fast as their legs could carry them. Isil kept falling behind to count each member of the troupe, paranoid that one of them had tripped and become a meal for one of those ghastly monsters. Radagast's rabbits were indeed fleet-footed, but no one could account for a rogue warg catching the faintest whiffs of dwarf. The company barely made it out of sight before the stray rider wandered toward them, sniffing out its prey. They had no choice but to try to eliminate it before the others caught on.

Kili's aim was true but not fatal, and they knew the death knells of both orc and warg had alerted the rest of the riders of their position. They had no choice but to make a mad dash to safety with Gandalf at the lead. He appeared to know where to go, much to Thorin's suspicion, but without any other alternatives he followed.

Isil couldn't tell how much time had passed since they started their escape; seconds, minutes, hours, it was all a blur. They ran until their lungs burned but despite their best efforts, they were surrounded, with no choice but to make a stand. They huddled in closer around a large rock formation, warg riders closing in for the kill. Gandalf had mysteriously vanished, and they were left to fend for themselves. Kili picked off one or two riders, but it was pointless. There were too many.

"This way, you fools!" A pointed hat popped up from amid the stones. Isil and the others whipped their heads toward the shout, then one by one dove for the safety of the hollow. The wolf slid down the crag after Bombur, colliding into the pile of dwarves with a muffled 'oof!', scurrying out of the way as Fili, Kili, and Thorin fell in after them. Isil belatedly wondered what a cave was going to do to discourage the orcs from killing them. Surely they just sealed their fate by jumping blindly into a hole with no exits?

Before she could pursue that line of thought any longer, the blare of a horn resonated in the distance. Sounds of a battle were heard, and a corpse fell through the mouth of the cave. Upon examining the arrow that killed it, Thorin spat out the word, "Elves" and looked accusingly at Gandalf. Dwalin pointed out a path, asking if they should take it or not. Bofur did not hesitate in his decision, prompting the rest of them to line up single file and follow suit.

The trail led on and on, for miles and hours. Isil did not know how much longer she could take the restricted space. Thankfully the pathway finally opened before she panicked, and they all enjoyed the breathing room. Isil heard Bilbo comment to Gandalf about something changing in the air, saying that "...it feels like... magic!" but she was too focused on finding the end of the road to pay closer attention. They walked further for several more minutes in relative silence, all growing weary of the scenery and uncertainty of where they were headed, until Gandalf whispered down to Isil,

"Walk ahead my dear, you'll want to see this." Isil did what he asked, confused. Shortly after he said that the path at long last ended, revealing the magnificent sight of a lush green valley holding a stunningly beautiful city in the center. Isil gasped as they all filtered out of the crag, standing with her forelegs atop a rock to get a better view.

"The Valley of Imraldis," Gandalf provided. "In the Common Tongue, it's known by a another name."

"Rivendell," Bilbo sighed reverently.

"Here lies the last Homely House east of the sea," Gandalf said, smiling. Isil was in awe; she had never seen a more beautiful city. Of course, with no memory beyond a few months there was little to compare it to, but she was still sure it still ranked quite high. The rest of the company didn't appear to appreciate the grandeur of the view, Thorin being the most irate at the sight.

"This was your plan all along, to seek refuge with our enemy," the dwarf king hissed at Gandalf, radiating anger.

"You have no enemies here, Thorin Oakenshield. The only ill will to be found in this valley is that which you bring yourself."

"You think the Elves will give our quest their blessing? They will try to stop us," he countered.

"Of course they will. But we have questions that need to be answered. If we are to be successful, this will need to be handled with tact and respect and no small degree of charm." Gandalf walked to a narrow path down the canyon into the valley. "Which is why you will leave the talking to me." Negotiations apparently over, they followed, having little choice but to do as the wizard wanted. Isil had no problem with that, trotting as quickly as she could at the company's heels. She was eager to see more, and could not help but notice the detail in architecture only grew in beauty the closer she got. The wolf felt her spirits rise and her heart lighten. This was certainly a pleasant turn of events compared the troll caves and close encounters with wargs and orcs. She hoped that the dwarves would realize that at some point, instead of holding onto grudges she didn't understand in the first place.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to thank all those who have stuck around to this point! Unfortunately this is almost certainly going to be the last chapter I'll be able to get out for quite a while, since my last semester starts today and ends in May and I have to devote 90% of my time to it. Hopefully I'll be have a little free time to do personal stuff afterwards, but I'll also be trying to get a job after I finish so I don't know. Hopefully I'll return to this sooner rather than later, but goodbye for now!


	7. Chapter 7

The elven outpost became even more beautiful the closer the company got to it. It was built in total harmony with the landscape, intertwining hand made and natural elements to splendid effect. A blanket of peace enveloped Isil despite the dire circumstances she and her companions had escaped from just before. The earthen path soon gave way to one made from stone and they crossed the final bridge separating them from the homely house. They poured into a small courtyard surveilled by both stone and authentic guards, who gazed resolutely beyond the incoming travelers.

The dwarves murmured amongst themselves, glaring disapprovingly around at the intricate and dainty architecture. Isil drank it all in, awed. She absently kept at Gandalf's heels, belatedly hearing him call a greeting in response to a hail. Tearing her gaze away from the scenery, she watched as a figure descend the stairway. When he reached the bottom he spoke in a language she did not understand, yet felt strangely calmed by. An elf, perhaps? It was obvious from the relaxed smiles that the two knew each other. Isil did her best to keep out of his line of sight. She did not know the kind of welcome she would receive here.

Fortunately for her Isil wasn't noticed. Just when Gandalf asked for the whereabouts of someone named 'Elrond', he was answered with the sound of an approaching horn. The wolf turned to the noises as they charged down the path. As they drew closer, Isil noted a the barest hint of aggression in their stares. The dwarves noticed it too and sprung into action, closing ranks and preparing to meet this potential foe head-on. The peaceful serene air was replaced with a charged and confused intensity so quickly the wolf barely had time to react. She tensed as the horsemen circled the dwarves, but to her confusion Gandalf did not appear worried in the least.

The reason for the wizard's comfort in the situation became clear when a worldly voice called out from the mess of riders, addressing Gandalf directly. An armored form from atop a white horse greeted him and they conversed briefly in the same strange language. The regal being, apparently the same Lord Elrond that Gandalf had asked after, dismounted to step forward and embrace the grey wizard warmly. Isil relaxed at the action; anyone familiar enough with Gandalf was good in her books.

"Strange for Orcs to come so close to our borders," Lord Elrond commented, eying the wizard while handing a beastly looking weapon to the first elf. "Something, or someone, has drawn them near." Gandalf only smiled.

"Ah, that may have been us," he provided. He turned towards the dwarves, who had been shifting uncomfortably for the entire conversation. Isil could sympathize. Thorin stepped forward, as formidable and intimidating as ever. Lord Elrond looked upon him with recognition on his features,

"Welcome Thorin, son of Thrain," the elf greeted graciously.

"I do not believe we have met." Thorin responded, his tone hard and guarded. Isil winced. _'Don't foul this up Thorin,'_ she pleaded internally.

"You have your grandfather's bearing. I knew Thror when he ruled under the Mountain." Lord Elrond neatly ignored his bluntness.

"Indeed; he made no mention of you." Isil hung her head in defeat. There was no reasoning with this dwarf. What their host responded with she could not understand, but it was said in a tone that conveyed no warm feelings. She shut her eyes tightly when they started shouting and imagined all the finery they could have enjoyed had the dwarves not just been a pack of royal pains to their host. A safe place to sleep, properly prepared food, a chance to _properly_ bathe...

Her dreary daydreams were thankfully interrupted by Gandalf clarifying the elf lord's words for them all:

"No, master Gloin, he's offering you food."

Oh. Well. That worked out much better than she'd hoped. Relief washed over her, and she laughed to herself as the dwarves seemingly went against their natural disdain for elves for the chance of a feast. The company of elves led the company of dwarves up the cobbled pathway to the dining hall for their banquet. It was only when Gandalf went to follow them with Isil at his heel that that the wolf was noticed by the elf lord. He made a noise of surprise, catching the grey wizard's attention. It was not often that something slipped by the elf lord's keen perception for so long.

"And who might this be, Mithrandir?" Elrond's words were slow and calculated, and his tone was polite on the surface, but Gandalf caught the dark current beneath it. He knew his friend disliked surprises of this nature, and quickly made to rectify the situation.

"Ah, apologies my good friend. I forgot to introduce a rather unusual member of our group. She was quite an unexpected addition at first, but proved herself invaluable very quickly. This is-" Gandalf pushed her out from where she had been hiding behind him- "Isil."

The wolf stood frozen. She did not know how to act in a situation like this. Realizing that acting like a scared pup would get her nowhere, she did the only thing she could think of: she bowed. Or she bowed to the best of her abilities. Isil did not like having the back of her neck exposed like this, nor did she like having to cast her eyes cast downward in the presence of a relative stranger. However, she could sacrifice that bit of dignity for the chance of a few creature comforts.

Awkward as it was, the non-threatening display appeared to appease Elrond, and his gaze lost much of its intensity.

"Early in our journey Isil provided invaluable assistance when we were attacked by a pack of roving reprobates. In return, she wished to accompany us. She has been a loyal companion ever since," Gandalf finished his endorsement, hoping this was enough to convince the elf lord of his wolf's innocence. The elf in question had his brow set in his signature furrow and his mind was deep in thought. Before the two could worry any further about whether or not Isil would be allowed into the city, Elrond smiled graciously and extended his arm forward to welcome them into his home. Both the wolf and wizard sighed in relief, following Elrond's lead. They each spared the other a discreet glance and a grin before returning their attention to the elf lord's queries and conversations.

* * *

When the trio caught up with the majority of the dwarvish company inside the open court they were being seated around low tables and even lower stools. It was obviously last minute preparations, but they managed to pull off the set-up with grace. As they approached Isil heard them muttering to themselves with disdain in their voices and immediately proceeded to tune them out in favor of admiring her surroundings, much like she noticed Bilbo doing. As she took in the scenery she vaguely noticed Elrond pull aside one of his attendants to whisper into their ear, but felt too at ease at this point to mind.

Isil felt Gandalf leave her side and was about to follow before she saw the set up: the more 'prominent' members of the party were being ushered to a specific table separate from the others. Gandalf made a nearly unseen hand signal to her. Isil got the hint: lay low. She stopped in her tracks and trotted to a spot right in between all three tables where she thought she could observe nearly everything at once.

The tables the other dwarves sat around were lowered and they were all provided short but usable stools for easier accommodation. _'That was rather thoughtful,_ ' Isil mused. _'I wonder why these fellows hold this particular group of elves in such contempt.'_ The wolf pondered that for a moment or two. _'Oh well,'_ she concluded, _'I'm sure they have their reasons, whatever they are.'_ Getting involved in the politics of others without proper knowledge of their histories only caused more problems than it solved. Her attention drifted from the dwarves, who whispered words of mistrust even as they were being served food, back to the elves themselves.

The white wolf watched them flit about, either preparing for their guests or just going about their business. She lifted her nose to the air and took a deep breath in; whatever they were making already smelled divine. They really were all very lovely, carrying a grace she hadn't seen in this world until now. At least, she didn't think she hadn't, considering her amnesiac state. Isil startled herself with that thought. That's right; she had no memory beyond a couple of months. Why didn't that bother her more? She shook her head, golden brow furrowing. A lost memory should be something to be concerned about, shouldn't it?

She was interrupted from her disquiet when an attendant, the same one Elrond pulled aside before, placed a plate on the ground in front of her. Isil looked up at the interruption but the elf was already hurrying back to their duties. The wolf looked back down and did a double take when she saw a dish of freshly cooked and seasoned meat. She slyly glanced around at her companions, listening to them grouse about their own plates, and made a mental note to personally thank Lord Elrond before eagerly digging in.

Ori sighed at his seat, ignoring his brother's encouragements to at least taste the leafy greens in his bowl. Dwalin was taking their limited options with decreasing grace.

"Where's the meat?" he snapped, tossing some of the greens around on the table. He caught a whiff of something in the air and sniffed it for a moment before twisting around to look for the source. The tattooed dwarf spotted their furred companion happily wolfing down on what appeared to be the only non-vegetarian dish in the hall. "'Ey!" he hollered, standing from his seat. "Where did you get that?!"

Isil eyed him, not pausing her feast. She grunted, then moved to block his line of sight with her back. ' _Nope, not sharing. Maybe if you hadn't yelled at me every time I stopped for a second to smell something on the road...'_ Dwalin sputtered angrily at the wolf's snub and reached forward. Whether intending to grab her or her food she didn't know, but she wasn't about to let the best meal she's had in months stolen from her by a surly dwarf! Letting out a firm but playful growl she scooped up what was left of the meat and darted out of reach. This started a short game of chase while the others watched with a mixture of disdain and amusement.

Amid the cheers and jeers and close calls sat Elrond, Gandalf, and Thorin, all of whom were doing their best to tune out the noise around them while they conversed. Thorin was already quite used to ignoring his brethren when they caused chaos; he easily doubled his efforts whenever the wolf was involved. Gandalf was torn between worry and amusement while Elrond appeared to take the havoc in stride, focusing instead on the swords he was given to examine.

"This is Orcrist, the Goblin Cleaver. A famous blade, forged by the High Elves of the West, my kin. May it serve you well." The elf handed it back to its new owner, who accepted it with a nod. He examined the next blade with interest, "And this is Glamdring, the Foe hammer, sword of the King of Gondolin. These swords were made for the goblin wars of the First Age..." They were interrupted when a cheer went up behind them. Isil had pulled a daring move by tossing the last bit of meat up into the air over Dwalin's outreached arms only to follow by jumping off his skull to catch it midair, landing gracefully behind him and finishing her plate in one final bite. The wolf licked her chops in triumph, chest puffed out proudly in self-satisfaction while the tattooed dwarf fumed.

The attendants and musicians carried on with their obligations dutifully through the chase. Both Dwalin and Isil returned to their respective seats and the dinner continued. Isil, full and happy, lounged in the relative peace. She subtly eavesdropped on the conversations around her, but honed in on the one happening with Thorin and Gandalf when tones became suspicious. The atmosphere grew minutely tenser when Thorin icily excused himself from his seat. Isil watched the king stalk away from his host as Gandalf attempted to defend the odd gathering to Elrond without raising suspicion. She was worried. She didn't realize just how secret this mission was supposed to be. What in the world did she sign up for?

Isil was again interrupted from her distressing thoughts when Bofur decided to liven the mood a little with a jovial song of his own. To her surprise, he scooped up the wolf, jumped on the stone stand between their tables and began to dance and sing. Isil was caught between being appalled and amused as she was swung around, balancing precariously on her back legs. She contemplated stealing his hat again and hiding it in revenge, but settled on just going along with the little display. The wolf supposed this was a good a time as any to relax and act a bit silly. She tried to keep up with Bofur as food was thrown at them from all sides, relaxing even further since she came to this near paradise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm done with classes and I graduate this coming Monday! Updates will probably still be spotty as I try to get a job/do commissions but I'll have a little more time to write than normal. 
> 
> Might edit this chapter later, maybe even this whole story at some point. I've been rethinking some of the chapters and how things are introduced.


	8. Chapter 8

Bofur's song and dance caused a huge mess in the court and severely disturbed the tidy and uptight elves but successfully made everyone else forget their cloudy thoughts, including Isil. After dinner, Elrond graciously opened his home to them for as long as they needed. They were all left to their own devices afterwards and the dwarves set about taking him up on the offer by making themselves at home. Isil, for her part, was a little lost as to what to do. She stuck by Gandalf while the dwarves went off and the attendants began the arduous task of cleanup until the wizard turned to her and said,

"Isil my dear I must speak to Lord Elrond about a few important matters privately, I'm afraid," he told her apologetically. The wolf drooped. She didn't fancy the idea of being left alone in unfamiliar territory. "Now now, do not look so glum." The wizard scanned the courtyard, settling on a small retreating form. "Why don't you join our hobbit friend on his tour of Rivendell? I'm sure he'd appreciate some company, he has been very quiet of late." With that, he patted her on the head, turned around, and walked off with one last parting statement. "Keep an eye on him for me, Isil."

The gold faced wolf watched him go before turning her attention to said hobbit friend. Maybe this time with Bilbo would be a good idea; she liked him very much, and she thought he could use another friend in the company. He was unused to the rugged lifestyle of the dwarves, something they often taunted him for, but he put in great effort to keep up with them. The hobbit was getting better and better at keeping up as each day went by, whether he realized it or not. Isil took off after him at a quick trot. Her spirits were lifting already. She _had_ wanted to explore Rivendell and its beauty anyway.

Isil caught up with Bilbo in a matter of moments. Despite not approaching with stealth, he hadn't appeared to notice her, so she nudged his hand with her nose to get his attention.

"Oh!" Bilbo said, startled from a deep thought. "Isil, I didn't hear you following. Care to take a walk with me?" he asked, scratching her ear. The hobbit turned around and the silver wolf followed his gaze back to the remaining dwarves busying themselves with setting up camp or counting their supplies. "Well, come along. We shan't be missed much," he stated glumly, Isil noted.

 _'Poor fellow. Here he is, pulled from his home by a bunch of rough and tumble dwarves, all of whom expect him to know and do everything they do, then get bothered when he can't pick it up in a day. I feel for you, friend.'_ Since she could not articulate her sympathies in words, she nosed his hand again instead and was rewarded with another scratch behind the ear.

Their stroll was a pleasant one. The other elves in the sanctuary were rarely seen but the scenery made up for it. Bilbo, seemingly needing someone to vent to, started talking to her despite knowing she couldn't answer back. He started with idle chatter, comments about the location and weather, but the topic quickly changed to their dwarvish companions and his struggles to fit in.

"...Now that I'm here, I can't believe I left! What was I thinking, running from my home and my books and my armchair on the word of a wizard? And for what? Cold nights, sore feet, and no handkerchief! A foolish slip that's led to a heap of regret, that's for sure," he lamented, punctuating his words with waving hand gestures. Isil listened with empathetic ears. "I know most of them are trying at least a little to make me feel welcome, but I know they think I shouldn't be here either. I still catch Dwalin scowling over at me every time I slip up, even a little!"

 _'I hear that.'_ Isil mentally rolled her eyes. That guy could really stand to lighten up.

"And Thorin! Oh, do I feel like a _fool_ every time I so much as stand near him. You should have heard him that night when he first arrived at Bag End. 'More like a grocer than a buglar,' hah! He was right all along." Bilbo closed his eyes and sighed. "It just hurts sometimes, you know? Every time he looks at me there is such contempt in his eyes that I can't help but look away. I should turn back while I still can, but I just want to impress him, prove myself for some foolish reason. I know it's silly; he's a stone wall and I've certainly got nothing to offer, but..." He sighed again, shoulders slumping in defeat.

While Bilbo sulked Isil couldn't help but feel confused. _'Yes, well, I suppose since he_ is _the leader of this merry little band you'd want to prove yourself useful, but why... Oh._ Oh _. Ooohhh.'_ Sudden realization hit her. A sly grin steadily grew across the golden wolf's face as the pieces fell into place. Bilbo's attention was focused on the tiles in front of him as he walked forward, but from his periphery he noticed Isil staring him down. Puzzled, he stopped to give her his full attention.

"What?" he asked, perplexed. Her grin only widened. _"What?"_ he repeated, "Why are you looking at me like -" His brow practically shot up to his hairline when he caught on to her implication. Sputtering and flushed cheeks soon followed after, along with fidgeting hands attempting to straighten out his vest. "Oh! Now don't you go – Of course it's not like – I- I mean...!"

 _'You_ like _him!'_ Isil thought, leaning into his personal space to punctuate her musings. Bilbo gathered himself enough to wave her off.

"Now see here! Don't go getting any dotty ideas in your head like that. He's a dwarf king and I'm a gentlehobbit, and that's that. Now go, be off with you!" The wolf scampered down an alternate pathway from the hobbit as he shooed her away, huffing in laughter. As she loped out of sight she could hear Bilbo muttering in flustered irritation as he continued on his own way.

 _'Hm hm hm, this changes a few things,'_ Isil thought to herself. Her happy thoughts at the newly discovered crush were slowly overshadowed by darker ones. Bilbo's flame for Thorin was cute on the surface, but the chances that the dwarf king returning any feelings were slim to none. Meaning... her friend could get his heart broken. The wolf shook those unhappy thoughts from her mind. No. Bilbo was stronger than he looked. He could survive this. And who knows, maybe that blockhead Thorin will stop being dull long enough to properly reciprocate those feelings at some point. Stranger things have happened, she imagined.

* * *

The wolf continued her tour of Rivendell alone and untroubled. Several minutes after leaving Bilbo's side she caught the familiar sound of annoyed grumbling and heavy robes brushing on the ground. She bounded down the path toward the noise and almost collided with a distracted wizard's legs as he rushed down the walkway. He halted just before he barreled over the gold and white form, his face and aura deeply agitated.

"Ah! Pardon me, Isil. I did not see you there," Gandalf said to her. She barked and wagged her tail in a dog-like manner anyway, happy to see him again. "It is fortunate that I ran into you so quickly, I was looking for you," he added. Isil cocked her head, confused but intrigued. The wizard kneeled down to her level and spoke in almost a whisper, "I managed to excuse myself for a brief respite from my meeting with Lord Elrond. Based on what we discussed, I feel that coming consultations will... not go well, to say the least. So I've devised a contingency plan for the dwarves to continue on without me if they have to, temporarily." Isil felt her heart sink again.

 _'Continue on'? Without you? But why?'_ She whined, and Gandalf knew what was on her mind.

"I know that your bond with the dwarves is still... tenuous at best, so I will not force you to go on with them, should you choose not to." Isil's ears pricked up at that. She had a choice? That made things a little easier. Of course she would stay with Gandalf, like she noted earlier, she would not be missed. She hopped up to lick the wizard's nose, making her choice known. He laughed, then pat her neck. "Very well then, but if we must go through with this course and you stay you must keep this a secret. The elves will stop them if they find out."

Isil snorted. _'Who could I tell? As far as they're concerned, I can't speak.'_ Gandalf appeared to pick up on her thoughts, and a warning look entered his eyes.

"Do not be so quick to dismiss the elves and their talent at discovering secrets. There is a reason they appear all-knowing and worldly; they can speak to trees and animals, and many even have the power of foresight and the ability to read minds."

 _'Oh.'_ That made things more difficult. She nodded to Gandalf, conveying her understanding. He nodded back and stood.

"Now." The wizard brushed his robes down and appeared to steel himself for something unpleasant. "I am off to retrieve Bilbo. He and I have a delicate meeting with Lord Elrond and Thorin Oakenshield to attend." He rounded his shoulders and strolled off in the direction he came, leaving the wolf to her thoughts.

* * *

Isil wandered aimlessly around Rivendell, careful to avoid any further contact with elves. She was soon plucked from her musing by the sound of a pleasant breeze wafting through leaves. She had wandered into a breezy little circular courtyard surrounded by cool greenery. Flowering creeping vines cloaked the walls and ceiling and were growing long enough to inch along the floor and down the decorating statues. The air felt cleaner here, and she breathed in deeply, relishing the smell and atmosphere. She looked behind her and noted the contrast between the deepening oranges and reds of the quickly setting sun through the entrance and the crisp, cool interior. Quietly padding further inward to fully appreciate the designs of the elegant statues making up the pedestal and seats in the center of the enclosure, the gold and silver wolf felt the tension she picked up since leaving Gandalf's side earlier ease from her body. The old wizard was right. There were no enemies here; yes, old rivalries and conflicts, but also peace and quiet.

After she finished examining the pedestal, Isil walked back to the balcony. She stood up on her hind legs and rested her front paws on the fence, peering over the edge with curiosity. The drop was fairly steep and overlooked a stone pathway some forty feet down. The wolf glanced back over to the entrance, observing that the sun was barely a sliver on the horizon and vanished in moments. She dreamily considered returning soon. She should at least find some more food, since she was apparently going to be here for a while.

For nearly ten minutes she stood staring down from the balcony debating whether or not she should go back to camp or find food. So deep was Isil's inner back and forth that she did not see the figure gazing at her serenely near the circular set of benches near the entrance of the courtyard.

Decision finally made, the wolf stepped from the edge of the balcony only to nearly jump out of her skin when she saw that she was not alone. The wolf almost fell over herself in shock, but the face of her observer struck her still with its beauty. Her eyes were sea-breeze blue, her hair a golden wave, and she dressed in the finest looking gown Isil had ever seen. The woman smiled down warmly at the wolf, and Isil swallowed the butterflies she felt rising in her chest. The wolf was crouched down nearly to the ground, caught between the urge to flee from the elf that had snuck up on her and the desire to remain and stare at her more.

The golden haired elf laughed softly, then leaned down to offer her hand to the wolf. Isil's heart nearly stopped, and she hesitated, but could not resist the draw the woman had. She slowly inched forward until her nose was almost touching the elf's fingers. She sniffed cautiously, but the scents that greeted her snout were gentle and friendly. No trace of fear, tension, grime, nor blood in any ridge of print nor under nail, just calm yet unidentifiable fragrances. The fear gradually bled from Isil's posture. She cast her eyes upward and the elf's eyes softened even more.

"Do not be afraid, little one," she said with a honey voice that washed over the wolf's ears and body. Isil practically melted into the hand the elf offered, never taking her eyes from the beautiful woman's face. The woman laughed again as she ran fingers through the thick fur on the wolf's neck. The golden faced wolf signed in contentment, leaning into the touch.

 _'I am Galadriel, Lady of the Wood.'_ The voice she had just heard with her own two ears now echoed within Isil's head, and she stared wide-eyed at the elf before her. The wolf found herself too bewildered to pull away, and Galadriel continued on despite the confusion. _'I know who you are, little one; I know you can answer me.'_

 _'How... did you know that?'_ Isil asked in her mind.

' _I have foreseen it. You may not understand it for some time, but you have a role to play in this world,'_ was Galadriel's enigmatic answer. _'I also know that this form of speech is not the only one you are limited to. Let us talk with words in place of thoughts.'_

The statement broke Isil from her trance-like state, and icy shock froze her veins. _'Wh-what?! I-I don't know what you're talking about, I can't-'_

"Do not be afraid," she reassured again using her actual voice, "I promise, no harm will come to you." Galadriel's gaze was gentle, and despite her misgivings Isil believed her. The wolf, after a few more moments of consideration, retreated from the Lady to hunch over, then took a deep breath, and willed her body to change shape. The process was slow and careful; she did not know just how long it had been since she shifted, but it had been several months at the very least. Finally, after several minutes, she stood back on two legs for the first time in a long while.

Truth be told, there was little physical difference between how quadrupedal Isil and bipedal Isil looked. Though her body accommodated for a new center of gravity with altered hips and spine, she did not gain any actual height, and her legs changed little. Her forelegs were most the altered in this transformation, having shifted position somewhat to allow even greater movement from her shoulders. Wolfish front paws had elongated into fingers as dextrous as any other. The most significant part in the upright posture, however, is how the position grants the gift of speech.

Isil's eyes were cast downwards, unwilling to meet Galadriel's sight for fear that she might find disgust or terror in them. To her continued surprise she felt soft fingers under her chin, tipping her head back until she could look up at the kind face before her. The ethereal being beamed down at her, and she felt safe. She gestured to the bench beside them, and they both sat down to have a actual, revealing conversation.

"You said before," Isil began, slightly hoarse, "that you foresaw... me? What did you mean?" Her voice was rough, though it was partly from disuse and partly natural. The sound was soft, with an animalistic growl underlying her words.

"In my mind I saw your arrival to Middle Earth, and caught glimpses of your potential future," the Lady answered. "You were brought to this world for a purpose, Isil, by the highest of powers to prevent certain disaster. Though which disaster, I am not sure," she continued cryptically.

"Why me, though? Why was _I_ chosen? And why can't I remember anything about myself? Who am I? Am I from another world?" Isil asked in rapid succession, desperate for clues.

"That, I am afraid, I cannot answer," Galadriel replied, genuinely sympathetic. "Even I am not privy to that information." She took the hands that Isil was anxiously wringing together into her own, to help calm her. "If your memories were taken, it must have been for a reason. Perhaps you needed to be focused on the mission placed upon you, with no outside distraction."

Isil wilted. Even if it was for a greater purpose, stealing the memories of her entire life felt cruel and unfair. The queen sensed her sadness.

"I also believe that if you were chosen, it must be because you are fully capable of the task at hand. The Valar would not have called upon you otherwise," Galadriel consoled.

The gold and silver wolf took a breath, trying to take the Lady's words to heart. When Isil didn't say anything else, the Lady inquired about something else.

"If you have known about your ability to talk, why have you not revealed it to your travel companions?"

Isil scoffed. " _Look_ at me. I'm a monster to them. The night I met them they were going to shoot me even though I helped them fight a pack of bandits. Gandalf had to practically fight to keep their weapons down. If they found out what I really was, they'd turn on me in a second." Though she was pouring her heart out to a beautiful stranger, she reminded herself of the secrecy of the situation, and tactfully avoided any identifying details of the mission.

"Perhaps now, yes. But perhaps if you earned their trust the longer you travel with them, you will have enough of their trust to safely show yourself."

Isil scoffed again. "Yeah, right," she replied, dejected. Gentle fingertips once more touched her chin to guide her eye to Galadriel's.

"It would be a great burden lifted from your shoulders if you had at least one confidant amongst your companions. Consider it." The words got Isil to pondering the possibility. The Lady stood, and stepped away from the bench, her flowing gown trailing behind her. "I must attend an important council," she said before turning around, "Would you care to join me?" Isil was so deeply entranced by the ethereal elf that she barely even hesitated before scurrying off the bench to shift back into her four-legged form and glue herself to the Lady of the Wood's side to follow her wherever she was off to.

* * *

Simultaneously, a grey wizard was being guided by the lord of Rivendell to the same meeting, the White Council, to discuss the meddling wizard's troupe of dwarves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If that sounded way gay near the end that was most definitely on purpose. Much like Ian McKellen I was smitten with Kate Blanchett and her portrayal of Galadriel and I wanted to convey that in my story through my character who totally digs Galadriel.
> 
> Up until this point I've been following the movie version pretty closely, but here's where it starts to diverge a little bit. I only have a super rough script of what happens next, but it's going to be like that for another chapter or two. Hopefully I'll have more differences later on, or at least something where I won't have to follow the movie script to a T.
> 
> I've gone back to touch up the previous chapters in a few areas, hopefully people didn't get notified of those when I did.


	9. Chapter 9

Lady Galadriel and Isil stood on the terrace overlooking Rivendell's lush vale, bathed in soft moonlight. Despite the breathtaking landscape, Isil could only focus on the beautiful figure beside her. As she gazed serenely out at the open air she lightly ran her fingers through Isil's fur atop her head. She was so hypnotized she didn't even notice a pair of voices and their owners make their way upstairs, stopping when they reached the top. As Galadriel turned to greet them Isil was broken from her reverie, surprised to see Gandalf and Lord Elrond appearing through the doorway. Though she could not understand many of the words that followed they made Lady Galadriel smile, which made Isil happy.

"I had no idea Lord Elrond had sent for you," Gandalf said with a smile.

"He didn't." The new voice made Isil jump and Gandalf's demeanor falter. "I did." The wolf watched an unfamiliar white-robed figure step from the shadows, emanating power and commanding respect from sheer presence alone. The gray wizard bowed, addressing the newcomer by name,

"Saruman."

"You've been busy of late, my friend," he answered back serenely.

Isil had no idea how she missed an entire person standing only a few feet from her for so long without noticing. She snuck a glance up at Galadriel. _'I suppose I_ was _rather distracted,'_ she surmised. The wolf snapped back to reality when she noticed Saruman fixing her with a scrutinizing gaze and said in a commanding voice,

"I would like to know why you have allowed this creature to accompany you to this gathering, Lady Galadriel." Before Isil could duck behind her Galadriel spoke on the wolf's behalf,

"I asked her to." She pushed the silvery wolf out from behind her, much like Gandalf had done before. "She is accompanying Gandalf and the company of Thorin Oakenshield in their travels. I invited her to accompany me while awaiting the arrival of the remainder of the council." Isil gazed up at the elf, sighing in contentment at the hand placed on her head.

"We picked her up along the way," Gandalf interjected, "We have taken to calling her Isil. She is quite intelligent, despite not being the greatest conversationalist." Saruman remained stone faced.

"...While I welcome this... unexpected guest to Rivendell, I am afraid I now must ask for privacy, as we will be discussing sensitive information," the white wizard said in a polite yet unyielding tone. "Now that all members of the council are accounted for, we must begin." Isil looked to Galadriel, then to Gandalf, who nodded and gave a small smile. She nodded back, then stood. Before walking back toward the staircase she bowed her head to each member, then trotted away.

 _'I guess I could grab something to eat now... Oh! I meant to take a bath earlier! I can do that now too.'_ With her plans made, she set out to search for the kitchens and the bathing areas. As she padded along she spied the dwarves sitting around a fire kindled from broken chairs and decided to sleep with them in the alcove they had claimed for the evening. She knew that whatever those four beings back there decided, the dwarves were leaving as soon as they could and she would not go with them. _'I hope Bilbo will be alright on his own for a while.'_

After scrounging around the grounds for almost thirty minutes Isil found the bathing area. As luck would have it, there was one attendant left despite the late hour. Since she couldn't directly ask what she wanted she had to put her miming skills to the test to get him to understand what she wanted. Her efforts were rewarded, and forty minutes later she washed away weeks of grime and left an amused attendant behind. The wolf followed her nose to the kitchens and charmed the cooks using her most endearing of puppy faces into giving her a few leftover scraps, then finally made her way back to where the dwarves had taken up residence.

By the time Isil got there most of her companions had settled in for the night, including Bilbo. She made her way around the snoring forms, receiving little acknowledgement from those still awake aside from a glance, before coming to the hobbit's side to flop down, finding herself suddenly exhausted from the exceedingly hectic day. The wolf's eyelids grew heavier and heavier, and she fell asleep within minutes. The remainder of the dwarves left awake eventually packed their belongings and joined their kin, knowing that they would need to rest up for their early escape the next morning.

* * *

Gandalf held an impressive front stalling the council for several hours, managing to derail and divert the conversation to other pressing issues whenever the subject of his merry band of dwarves was brought up. In the wee hours of the day as dawn's rays broke over the hills with a beautiful sunrise, however, he ran out of excuses. He slowly began his defense of their quest, bringing up many valid points and warnings about possible futures. Saruman was nonetheless unyielding, and while he officially stated his condemnation of Thorin's journey, Lindir interrupted their meeting with a hurried air.

"My Lord Elrond; the dwarves... they've gone."

* * *

A few miles out from Rivendell in the still early morning the Company – minus two – trudge high on the cliffs surrounding the city, determined to carry on their mission with or without permission. Bilbo spares a moment to take one last look upon the city of his dreams, thinking on his decision to leave it. Even as he follows his fellows to certain peril, there was still so much holding him back. And why shouldn't he hesitate? This quest was high risk with potential for great gain but also devastating catastrophe. Besides that, he was minus two more friends in a group that mostly thought he didn't belong. Bilbo thought back to that previous hour, when he woke with the others so that they could take their leave before their hosts noticed.

...

_A rough nudge shook a hobbit from the best sleep he's had in weeks, but any complaints were held when he remembered why he was woken. As Bilbo pushed himself up to roll his sleeping bag and pull his things together he noticed a familiar gold and white wolf sleeping soundly next to him. He considered leaving her to sleep for just a few more minutes since she didn't have anything to gather, but he was nervous as it is and didn't want to risk the dwarves ire by possibly slowing them down. The hobbit, as gently as he could, shook Isil's shoulder._

_"_ _Isil, wake up, we have to leave now," he whispered. Shining yellow orbs slowly blinked open to met his. "Come on, it's time for us to continue on." She seemed to catch on, and her lids shot open to look around at the others. The wolf met his gaze again, an urgent message in her eyes. "What? What is it, girl?" he asked, concerned. Her ears pulled back and a soft whine escaped her throat. Isil looked over her shoulder, in the direction he last saw Gandalf go. She looked back to him, then firmly stamped her paw on the ground. It took Bilbo a few seconds to decipher the signs, but their meaning soon dawned on him. "You're... not coming with us."_

_The wolf could only nod, her expression regretful. Bilbo felt his face fall; he was looking forward to having someone who knew his secret at his side. Isil placed her head on his shoulder in comfort and he embraced her back._

_"_ _I do hope to see you again soon," was all the hobbit could say, and Isil responded by nuzzling further into the hug. Bilbo finished saying his goodbyes before shouldering his pack to follow the herd. The rest of the company followed suit, with a few of the more observant dwarves noticing that their wolf companion did not follow, just sat on the white cobblestone to watch them leave. Bofur in particular asked Bilbo what was happening as they made their getaway through the unpopulated halls, and he only could say that she was staying behind with Gandalf. He caught how Thorin, ever vigilant, glanced back at Isil. The dwarf king's nose crinkled in distaste, and Bilbo could only imagine his thoughts on the matter to be 'good riddance'._

...

"Master Baggins." Thorin's commanding voice startled him from his memory. "I suggest you keep up." Bilbo sighed. Whatever his feelings were, they would have to be quashed down.

For now.

* * *

Isil watched the company follow the trail until she couldn't discern their bodies from the cliffside. Her body language was a mix of both unease and sorrow, and she rested her chin on one of the windowsills outlooking the mountains while thinking back on her decision to stay. Maybe she should have gone with them, if only to act as a lightning rod to Bilbo to save him from Thorin's scorn. The wolf's brow furrowed. _'I can't protect him from everything. What good would that do him? He's no helpless child; he'll find his own way.'_ Despite the logic and truth behind those thoughts, Isil couldn't help but worry. To distract herself from those nagging notions, she decided to find Gandalf. She vaguely wondered if he had even gotten any sleep last night.

After retracing her steps (and making a small detour through the kitchens), Isil found the pavilion she was looking for. As she made her way up the stairs, the sound of gentle conversation with familiar voices drifted into earshot. Instead of interrupting, she decided to wait until the room's occupants were finished and sat outside the doorway, not making herself necessarily visible but not taking the greatest pains to hide her presence either. And... if she so _happened_ to overhear the conversation, then so be it!

Sharp ears twitched and turned to tune into the speakers from her place behind one of the supporting walls of the gazebo structure. Isil smiled as she heard Lady Galadriel tell Gandalf that helping Thorin out was good. But that smile turned into a frown when the elf issued a warning to the wizard. Isil hunched down as the air grew tense.

"Something moves in the shadows, unseen, hidden from our sight. It will not show itself, not yet. But every day it grows in strength. You must be careful," the elf cautioned ominously. Isil heard heavy footsteps; Gandalf was leaving and she panicked at the idea of being caught eavesdropping. The wolf nearly bolted out of instinct but Galadriel stopped the wizard before he got far.

"Mithrandir?" He halted. "Why the halfling?" Gandalf paused, mulling over his answer thoughtfully.

"I do not know," he answered truthfully. "Saruman believes that it is only great power that can hold evil in check, but that is not what I have found. I've found it is the small things, everyday deeds of ordinary folk, that keeps the darkness at bay. Simple acts of kindness and love." A warm smile grew wider on his face as he talked. "Why Bilbo Baggins? ...Perhaps it is because I am afraid, and he gives me courage."

Isil sensed the deep affection Gandalf had for the hobbit in his words, and it made her own heart fill with warmth. She peeked out from behind the wall, wondering again if she had made the right choice in letting Bilbo go alone. Maybe... she really _should_ have gone with the others to protect him, as a way to repay the wizard for the kindness he had shown her.

"Do not be afraid, Mithrandir," Galadriel's melodic voice interrupted her musings. "You are not alone." Isil closed her eyes in contentment, not being able to help but feel comforted by the statement as well. She couldn't understand the next words, but they were beautiful and deepened her ease and sense of protection. _"If you should ever need my help, I will come."_

Unbeknownst to the wolf, Galadriel's gaze drifted to her hiding spot then back at the wizard, and she continued to speak to her dear friend Gandalf in elvish. _"She will soon confide in you her secrets, Mithrandir. She has a part in this mission as well, and she needs someone to trust."_ Gandalf's confused eyes searched her own, not quite understanding what the elf was telling him. She only smiled. _"I know you will not let her down."_ Those last words were said with such tenderness that Gandalf could only look down at the gentle hands holding his own weary ones. He watched as her fingers slowly left his, their hold lingering as long as possible. When they finally released his, he looked up only to find that the Lady of the Wood had vanished.

Isil's spell of comfort was broken when the echoing voice of Galadriel rang in her head.

 _'Do not second guess your choices so easily. The halfling has more strength within him than even he knows. Bilbo must discover it for himself.'_ With that last assurance, nearly all traces of Lady Galadriel disappeared. Her scent lingered, but beyond that it was like she had never been there. Isil's head whipped around, wondering how she could have gotten past without the wolf knowing.

"Are you going to hide there all morning, or will you come out to say hello?"

Isil jumped; she was caught! Sheepishly she slunk out from behind the wall and faced the wizard's amused gaze, realizing she wasn't as stealthy as she hoped.

 _'You, ah, knew I was there, huh?'_ she thought, plunking down on the cool cobblestone.

"I am afraid it is rather difficult to hide from someone like myself, not to mention the Lady Galadriel, my dear," he laughed. "I saw that you had taken a liking to her." His eyes took on a faraway gaze. "She is quite a remarkable elf." Isil agreed, becoming starry eyed herself as she recalled the ethereal being. Gandalf snapped out of his reverie and addressed the wolf with meaning. "Well, get some rest, and eat while you can. I am going to gather supplies and attempt to make peace with Lord Elrond before we go. We will attempt to leave shortly after noon to catch up with the others, as I suspect Thorin and his company will fall into some sort of trouble without me soon enough." He strode forward with purpose, beckoning Isil to follow. She did so eagerly, intent on raiding the kitchens thoroughly one last time, knowing she and Gandalf would soon be forced to rough it in the unpredictable wildlands soon.

* * *

A/N: I had planned to make this chapter even longer, but I'm not really sure how long that would take, so I decided to cut it off here and post it as is. I've recently gone through some losses in my family, and my creative drive has taken a noticeable turn as a result which will affect the turnaround time. Until next time, see ya.


	10. Chapter 10

It took much longer than anticipated for Gandalf to calm Lord Elrond from his irate mood. The elf was immensely displeased to know that he had been deceived, but the wizard was an excellent negotiator and managed to deter Elrond from sending his troops after the band of dwarves. In the end it wasn't until very late in the afternoon before Isil and Gandalf were able to take their leave of the beautiful Rivendell. They were barely a few steps out of the gate and Isil already missed the pampered lifestyle. She looked back more than once, each glance growing progressively more wistful.

“We must make haste to make up for the time we lost,” Gandalf explained to her as they trekked along the rocky cliffside, following in the footsteps Isil had seen her friends take many hours before. “The dwarves will travel swiftly along these hills, even with the need for stealth coupled with Bilbo's inexperience slowing them. If we are late, Thorin will leap at the opportunity to change our plan and he will leave us behind in the Misty Mountains.”

As the wizard talked Isil rushed to keep up, finding his pace unusually quickened. Gandalf studied the sky, calculating how much longer they would have before nightfall.

“We still cannot travel far past sunset; it is obvious these lands have become dangerous, no matter how much Saruman believes it to not be true.” Beyond that, there was little conversation to be had. The gray wizard sometimes pointed out little landmarks, or reported where they were, and sometimes explained the cultural significance of their locations, but for the most part their breath had to be saved for the rapid pace.

Despite their late start, the duo covered a fair amount of ground in their chase. The two travelled for a time after the sun set past the horizon, but Gandalf eventually stopped them when they came upon an area he found suitable to hide in. The wizard did not pack many supplies for their journey, but what he had was enough for the two to sufficiently make camp to their liking.

Isil had been occupied in a debate with herself all day, even as she was running to catch up to Gandalf whenever she fell behind, distracted by the internal dialogue. She was thinking very hard on Galadriel's advice to tell someone what she really was. Truthfully, the only person she really wanted to tell (and realistically her only option to tell) what she really was was Gandalf. Despite thinking that he would accept her, she was held back by the thought that she would really, _really_ be pushing her luck here. Not only was Gandalf extremely powerful (she had gathered that along her journey) and likely able to kill her with a flick of the wrist, but he already stuck his neck out for her more than she would have ever expected, considering the reaction of the company the first night she met them. On the other hand... the constant secrecy was starting to take its toll on Isil. Before her talk with Galadriel, it had been months since she shifted forms and only then did she truly realize how exhausting it was to hold one form for so long. Not to mention her voice was weak and cracked from disuse. The phrase 'use it or lose it' came to mind.

As Isil lay on the ground, staring into the small fire kindled by a tiny spark of magic, she came to her conclusion. Being forced to hide in one form would weaken her in due time, and that would slow the company down, which would erode the already tenuous trust between her and the dwarves, which means that they would abandon her no matter what Gandalf said in her favor. The wolf broke her stare from the fire for the first time in ten minutes to glance up at the grey wizard puffing peacefully at his pipe. He was quite content with the silence hanging in the air, intending on getting as much rest and relaxation in as possible before the early start tomorrow. Isil steeled herself, taking a breath in for confidence before raising herself up to pad around the flames to where Gandalf sat.

The wizard watched as Isil sat beside him, looking strangely guilty. She did not meet his eyes for a moment, but when she did he was surprised to see worry in them. She placed her paw on his knee and pressed slightly; a gesture he guessed meant 'stay here' when she turned back around to her previous position sitting behind the fire.

_'Please understand,'_ was the only thought she could manage, taking another deep sigh in before willing her body to change shape for the second time in just about twenty-four hours. When the last of her bones creaked into place her anxious gaze leveled with the wizard's and she spoke, voice raspy and feeble.

“...Hello, Gandalf.”

The wizard froze with his pipe between his teeth as soon as his wolfish companion began her transformation, and the tension radiating from the gold and white werewolf was heavy in the air. She waited after she formally greeted Gandalf for the first time ever, fearful of his reaction. He cleared his throat, and took a long draw from the pipe.

“Well,” he started, smoke punctuating his words, “that was certainly unexpected.”

 

* * *

 

All in all it went fairly well. They both made no moves to budge from their respective positions opposite each other with the fire between them, but Gandalf hadn't made any aggressive motions so Isil hadn't bolted in fear. After the initial shock wore off curiosity on Gandalf's part quickly filled its place. Isil answered to the best of her abilities, relieved at finally being able to speak freely but unable to clarify much. Like with Galadriel, she told him she had no real memory prior to meeting Thorin and company, only that she could talk and shapeshift. That knowledge had never left her. She relayed the elf's speculations to him and he stroked his beard thoughtfully.

“Hmm... It honestly doesn't make much sense to me... but I never claimed to understand every action the Valar take.”

“You? Claiming to not know something? That's a first.” She laughed, but a cough cut her short and she massaged her throat with a wince. Her voice had become progressively weaker as she told her tale. Aside from last night this was the most she had spoken in several months. Before she lost it completely, she had something she thought was important to say. “Gandalf?” she started.

“Hm?”

“I am sorry I waited so long to tell you this. I... I was afraid.” The wizard inhaled his tobacco deeply.

“That is quite understandable, considering your first impressions,” he said and she relaxed a bit more. “No doubt Thorin would have run you through with his blade without a second before you would have been able to get past 'hello'.” That startled a coughing fit from her. Gandalf schooled the amusement at the reaction from his expression to replace it with concern. “I know this must have been difficult for you, not to mention tiring. It is late, and we have a long road ahead. Let us rest for now and we can talk again tomorrow.” With that he stood to set out the fire.

Isil only nodded in agreement, not willing to risk another embarrassing fit.

In the extremely unlikely event that some travelers, friendly or otherwise, happened upon them in the night she wanted to be prepared so she shifted back into her quadrupedal form and curled up.  Gandalf finished with his clean up and propped himself against a boulder, intending to finish his smoke and gather his thoughts before bed. Nearby the wolf forced down her racing thoughts through will and genuine exhaustion and fell into a light sleep.

The stars twinkled overhead in the inky black sky and somewhere far from the wolf and wizard a band of thirteen dwarves and one hobbit settled down for rest, all looking over the fields to the distant mountains that would be tomorrows destination.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's not the best ending in the world but what the hell. I might go back and fix this up, maybe, because it's a little short but I probably won't.


	11. Chapter 11

    The following morning Isil woke with a great peace of mind.  Telling her secret to someone she could trust lifted a great weight on her soul, and she felt lighter than air.  As the sun broke over the horizon she helped Gandalf pack up their camp and destroy all evidence of their presence, then resumed their long chase of the dwarves.  By keeping the same pace as the day before with breaks few and far between on top of being able to run all day they were able to make excellent time and caught up to the company a great deal, according to Gandalf.  Isil wasn’t really sure how he could tell, but she trusted his judgement all the same.  As they set up camp for the second night, the grey wizard reported that if they kept up this pace they should reach their friends in the next day or so.  

    By high noon the next day they reached the trail of the Misty Mountain.  The sky was gloomy, and it was obvious that a storm was raging inside the mountain.  Lucky for them by the time they reached their destination, the storm had subsided to a drizzle, but as they climbed their footing grew treacherous, slippery, and sharp.  Most alarmingly to Isil every once in a while the earth vibrated below their feet, and she swore she could hear crashing and cracking far off in the distance, but she shook it off as thunder and tried to calm herself.  Meanwhile, Gandalf muttered to himself as they moved, concern coloring his gruff voice,

    “The trail here… it’s changed… But they had to have come through here, there’s no other way…”  Indeed, though it was faint and almost washed away by the rain, Isil smelled the familiar scent of tobacco that could only belong to the company of Thorin lingering on the stone.  They rounded a rocky corner and Isil nearly collided with grey robed legs when Gandalf stopped short.  She grunted in annoyance and peered around him, wondering what the hold up was.  Her irritation was quashed when she saw that a massive chunk of the mountainside was carved away before them.  Tiny pebbles and dust particles fell every few seconds even now, indicating that the damage was recent.  Gandalf’s worried atmosphere nearly doubled, and the anxiety seeped into his voice as he identified the cause of the ruin,

    “This was no random rockslide.  The Stone Giants that dwell within this mountain range awoke and ravaged it in their war game.”  Isil had no idea what a ‘Stone Giant’ was, but the name painted a frightening picture.  She studied the wreckage with Gandalf further, and after a minute of inspection he sighed, “Our current path is destroyed.  However, it may be possible to merely go around this broken mess and resume our trail through careful climbing.  Do you think you can manage that?”  Isil studied the rocks, brow furrowed in concentration.  It would be a challenge, but she could probably manage.  The wolf looked up at the wizard and nodded a confirmation.  Gandalf smiled, and, taking hold of the stone to his left, started down the cliff.  

    With Isil following his footsteps closely, the wizard picked his way around the mountainside.  It took them much longer than they had hoped, and by the time they had rediscovered the trail the light was waning behind the clouds, indicating that nightfall was drawing near.  When the trail grew wide enough, they paused for a short break.  With labored breath from the effort Gandalf told Isil,

    “This mountain is perilous at night, but we cannot stop until we find shelter.  There are very few caves that are unoccupied by unsavory creatures here, but we will have to find one before we can rest.”  With nothing to offer in the way of argument or solution, Isil could only nod and hope for the best.  The two continued well into nightfall, until they finally came upon a small but vacant cavern to doze in, just for a while.  

Both the wolf and wizard managed to wrestle a few hours sleep out of the shelter before a series of alarming sounds rattled them awake.  The first was a cracking, then what disturbingly resembled the sounds of yelling coming not too far from where they were.  The two bolted outside to investigate, but the noises had abruptly stopped, rendering any thought of searching pointless.  Isil’s head whipped back and forth, ears on high alert, trying to catch the source, when a familiar scent wafted across her snout.  She froze, snapping to attention as she tracked the direction it came in.  

‘ _Could it be…?  Were we really so close to them without realizing it…?!’_  Isil whined intently up to Gandalf, then scrambled along the rock, claws scraping against them for traction.  The gold and white wolf ignored the dismayed cries behind her and trusted the wizard to follow, nose close to the ground in pursuit.  She followed the winding trail into another cave system, and the scent grew even stronger.  They were here!  

So intense was her focus on tracking the mixed smells of what she knew to be the company’s inside the chamber that Isil almost fell victim to the deadly pitfall within.  Luckily, before she could trigger the trap again, a strong hand grabbed on to the scruff of her neck and yanked her back.  She yelped in surprise, but was instantly grateful when she saw what Gandalf had spared her from.  Deep inside the cave system was a crudely constructed but effective trap door, only visible now that the dirt covering it was gone.  The scent of the dwarves permeated the room; they were here.  They were here and they _just_ missed them.  Frustration simmered in Isil’s gut.  

“Goblins.”  

Isil looked up when he spat the word.  

“One of those unsavory creatures I spoke of before,” Gandalf explained.  He looked around the cave, a peculiar expression on his face.  “Yes… I recognize this particular system now.  Come!”  He beckoned her to follow.  “There is another entrance, hidden closer to the root of the mountain.  If we hurry, we may catch them before something else goes wrong.”  

The path to the secret entrance was long and winding, and was was dangerous enough without the looming threat of ambush now hanging over their heads.  Gandalf led the way in near pitch blackness, guiding them using the low light of his staff to illuminate their steps.  Isil couldn’t tell how long they walked; what felt like hours could have been minutes for all she knew since the stress of the situation warped her perception of time.  Soon Gandalf found the pattern of rock he was seeking, and he slipped through a concealed crack in the mountainside with the golden faced wolf following close behind.  

The pathway inside the crevice was cramped and twisted, but they had little choice but to power through, but they didn’t have to wait long beyond that.  A pungent odor accompanied by grating laughter and nasty sounds signaled their stepping through the threshold of the Goblin kingdom.  Gandalf pressed himself against the walls and Isil followed suit.  They leaned out to peer through the doorway-sized gap, and Isil gasped at what she saw.  The pocked rock was illuminated by a low sickly orange-yellow light provided by torches flecked around the inner-sanctum of the kingdom, supported by a system of rickety, near-crumbling bridges and beams.  Pale, diseased looking creatures were found crawling around the structures and even along the walls, creeping like insects toward something that caught their attention.  Isil narrowed her eyes and found that something to be their very own party of dwarves, all being held in the company of a massive, even more grotesque - if that was possible - goblin being.  

“Oh, just wonderful,” Gandalf groaned.  The dwarves were being held right in the middle of all the attention, surrounded by their screeching enemies (was that awful noise _singing?!_ ), with no place to sneak around where the duo might steal them back.  It seemed like an impossible task, but Gandalf appeared to have a plan up his sleeve.  “We might still have a chance at rescuing them, but it will be a risky ploy,” he whispered to his wolf companion.  “Luckily, it’s not complicated.”  She quirked her head.  “We will simply walk right up to that gargantuan boil and walk right back out, our friends in tow.”  Isil gawked up at Gandalf, wondering what on this green earth he was playing at.  He cheekily grinned down at her, a twinkle in his eye.  “Hobbits are quite remarkable creatures.  While in their company, I learned a few of their fascinating tricks, including the ability to walk about unseen, even in plain view.”  

Isil had hoped what the wizard was saying was a joke, but when she realized he was being serious, she wondered just how tired he really was to be saying something so ludicrous.  But since he had gotten them this far… With no other ideas to fall back on, she was forced to push down her doubt and hope they weren’t horrifically maimed in the process.  Gandalf was already choosing his way down, not willing to waste any more time in this rescue.  

“Stay close to me; we must move swiftly, in the shadows, if this is to work.”  

Isil did just as he asked, holding her breath as they approached the first batch of goblins.  She expected immediately to be seen and attacked, but to her shock the repulsive things didn’t even glance over at them.  Relief washed over her, but she was careful not to let her guard down.  There was still quite a distance to cover, and Isil wondered how long their luck would hold out, and how long the dwarves would last.  Fortunately, they appeared to have taken up the art of stalling courtesy of Bilbo Baggins and were employing it to the best of their abilities.  It wouldn’t hold out forever, but it helped.  

Time seemed to slow down around Isil; it almost felt like they weren’t making progress at all.  The dwarves’ luck was wearing thinner and thinner, and it was only a matter of time before it broke completely.  She could hear them talking, but the echo in the cave accompanied by the mindless chatter and clicks from the goblins around her made the words almost impossible to discern.  The anticipation was fierce, and her agitation swelled with each agonizing second.  The wolf wanted to rush them; fight her way through the horde and steal her companions back, anything to break this tension.  Gandalf held her back with the occasional touch to the shoulder, an act of comfort that calmed and refocused her efforts.  

The wolf and wizard reached the base of the towering rock shard they had been inching towards for what seemed like an eternity.  At the top were the dwarves and the repulsive Goblin leader, meaning a steep climb upward.  Just as they began their careful ascent the word ‘torture’ was bellowed out from above, triggering a joyous clamour by the underlings around them, quickening their pace.  It felt like both Isil and Gandalf were losing their steady and cautious pace, knowing that they were cutting it close, but it mattered little as the cruel looking instruments of torture were pulled out, distracting any who might have seen them.  The two were practically running, at least as much as they could considering where they were, when a second uproar and the roaring command of ‘CUT OFF HIS HEAD!’ startled them into dropping all pretense of stealth.  

Just as a wicked looking goblin minion was about to carve right into Thorin Oakenshield’s neck a shockwave of silvery magic explodes through the cave, knocking everyone and everything down around it.  It was so powerful that even light and sound themselves appeared to wane around them.  Shadowed silhouettes stepped forward as the dwarves and goblins picked themselves up, one cloaked in robes and the other prowling on four legs.  

“Take up arms,” Gandalf bid them.  “Fight.  Fight!”  

And fight they did.  The dwarves were a flurry of movement and action, their motions fluid and practiced.  Gandalf and Isil joined them in battle; he sliced and felled goblins with proficiency and she tore throats, eyes, ankles, and anything else she could get.  The wizard commanded them to follow, and they did so without complaint as he cleaved a path through the goblins.  The ensuing fight was a thrilling blur to Isil, adrenaline keeping her alert from attacks by any goblin that crossed them.  She bit and dodged the numerous enemies missed by the blades of the dwarves or wizard, seemingly coming at them in an endless stream.  

Just as it looked as if they were in the clear, the wooden bridge before them exploded in splinters, and the Great Goblin pulls himself up before them.  

“You thought you could escape me?” he taunted, swinging his skull-and-bone-topped staff at Gandalf, making him fall back.  “What are you going to do now, wizard?”  

‘ _Oh no you don’t!’_ Isil snarled, then used Dori as a springboard to launch herself at the ugly face of the giant goblin.  Once she landed she dug her claws into his scarred and warty hide and bit his nose, nearly tearing it clean off.  She jumped and pivoted in the air, landing next to Gandalf, the rotten taste of goblin blood on her tongue and his pained screams in her ears.  The wizard wasted no time in slicing the Great Goblin’s stomach open, and as he collapsed to his knees he only had one last thing to say,

“That’ll do it.”  With a final swing of Glamdring, the Goblin King fell.  Any sense of victory gained from his death, however, was cut short when his dead weight proved too much for the ramshackle bridge.  It creaked ominously, then gave way, plunging the company into the depths below.  Down they slid in a terrifying drop, the edges of the bridge splintering and breaking as they scraped against the rock walls.  The company hit the ground with a thundering crash seconds later, far from the inner sanctum of Goblin Town.  

Isil landed on her back, dazed.  She couldn’t immediately get up, so she just laid there, eyes closed and groaning in pain.  Gandalf rose beside her, dusty and stumbling, but otherwise unharmed.  

“Well, that could have been worse,” said Bofur, ever the optimist.  As if to punish him for his positivity, the body of the Goblin King lands on the pile of dwarves, forcing pained cries from them all.  

“You’ve got to be _joking_!” gasped Dwalin.  Fortunately dwarves were a hardy people, and they began pulling each other out of the wreckage.  While they did so, a panicked cry from Kili drew their eyes upwards.  Goblin Town’s remaining denizens were rapidly descending upon them, crawling down the cave walls at an alarming speed.  “There’s too many!  We can’t fight them.”

“Only one thing will save us: daylight!  Come on!  Here, on your feet!”  Gandalf led them through a tunnel, through which the fading rays of daylight could be seen.  The goblins were hot on their tails, but when the glow of the sun touched them they shrieked and flinched back, ending their chase.  The dwarves did not slow their pace, however, until they reached the mouth of the cave.  For the first time in hours they breathed the fresh air, taking in lungfuls at a time in relief.  As they rushed down the mountain, Gandalf paused to count them as they passed.  

“Five, six, seven, eight...Bifur, Bofur...that’s ten...Fili, Kili...that’s twelve...and Bombur,­ that makes thirteen.”  He halted, looking around them.  “Where’s Bilbo?  Where is our Hobbit?  Where is our hobbit?!” he asked frantically.  Isil spun about, wondering how she could have missed his absence.  

“Curse the halfling!  Now he’s lost?!”

“I thought he was with Dori!”

“Don’t blame me!”

“Well, where did you last see him?” Gandalf interjected, ending the quarrel.  Nori told him that he watched Bilbo slip by the guards when they first fell into the trap.  The wizard desperately prodded for more information, panicked.  

“I’ll tell you what happened,” Thorin interrupted bitterly.  “Master Baggins saw his chance and he took it!  He’s thought of nothing but his soft bed and his warm hearth since first he stepped out of his door!  We will not be seeing our Hobbit again.  He is long gone.”  

Isil growled in indignation at his dismissive words, but secretly worried the same thing.  She recalled the conversation she and Bilbo had in Rivendell, and wondered if he had finally had enough of this whole journey and cut his losses by leaving.  

“No, he isn’t.”  

Isil, along with everyone else, jumped at the voice coming directly behind her.  There was Bilbo Baggins, who had somehow snuck up on them, looking ragged but well.  

“Bilbo Baggins!” Gandalf exclaimed, relieved.  “I’ve never been so glad to see anyone in my life!”  The hobbit strode forward, patting the grinning Balin’s shoulder along the way.  

“Bilbo, we’d given you up!” Kili yelled, joyous.  

“How on earth did you get past the Goblins?!” Fili asked.  

“How, indeed.”  Dwalin appeared happy (or at least as happy as he could be), but there was a suspicious edge to his voice.  To Isil’s confusion, Bilbo seemed reluctant to answer, only responding with a nervous laugh.  

“Well, what does it matter?  He’s back!”  At least he could count on Gandalf to come to his rescue.  Or, at least try to come to his rescue.  

“It matters!”  Thorin stepped forward, distrust in his eyes.  “I want to know: why _did_ you come back?”  Bilbo looked exasperated, and he sighed, irritation coloring his features.  

“Look, I know you doubt me, I know you always have,” he began.  “And you’re right, I often think of Bag End. I miss my books.  And my armchair.  And my garden.  See, that’s where I belong; that’s home.  And that’s why I came back... cause you don’t have one.  A home.”  The dwarves dropped their heads, sorrow briefly overcoming them.  “It was taken from you.  But I will help you take it back if I can.”  

Isil felt pride well up in her chest as Bilbo’s speech went on.  It appeared he had found his strength inside that mountain; the will to carry on to right an ancient wrong, even one that wasn’t his.  She nudged his hand with her nose, and leaned in when he scratched behind her ears.  The proud silence that the others used to contemplate the hobbit’s noble words was soon broken by the sound of a harrowing howl.  The orc pack had caught up to them.  

“Out of the frying pan...” Thorin started.

“...and into the fire!” Gandalf finished.  “Run! RUN!”

Down the mountain they flew, but despite their speed the wargs were faster, and they were nearly overtaken.  Worse yet, their path led to a cliff, and with no other choice they jumped into the trees growing along on the edge.  Since Isil didn’t have the hands to grasp branches, Gandalf swung her over his shoulder, climbing to the top of the furthest tree.  Once at the highest point they could reach, he deposited her onto a branch next to him, then turned towards the warg pack.  The others waited, each crowding the branches of their own personal pines.  The wargs snarled and bayed, but were silenced as a ghoulish figure approached: a pale, scarred orc astride a large white warg.  

“Azog...”  Thorin gasped.  The ghastly orc leaned forward and hissed in a language that made Isil’s blood run cold.  She bared her teeth reflexively, fear rushing through her.  There was something about him… something that made her brain reel and whirr.  She couldn’t look away, even as he waved his prosthetic arm in the air, shouting an order to his warg troops.  The beasts leapt forth, jumping at the trunks of the trees and snapping at the dwarves’ feet.  Their weight and attacks pushed the trees from their roots, sending them cascading into the ones behind them.  One by one they fell, until all the dwarves and Bilbo were left clinging to the last tree on the precipice of the cliff, trapped.  

Gandalf looks about desperately, eventually spying a pinecone.  He plucks it from the branch and sets it on fire using his magic, then uses it to light another.  He tosses them down to the dwarves below, who quickly catch on and throw them at the wargs.  The beasts, repelled by the flames, flee back to their enraged master.  Bolstered by their triumph they cheer and shout at Azog, but fate is fickle.  Those cheers turn into startled screams when the tree they rested on creeked and toppled, dangling them precariously over the cliff.  Isil clung to the trunk desperately, crying out when she watched helplessly as Ori and Dori slipped from their branches, only for Gandalf to swing his staff down so Dori could catch it.   She whined, praying for a miracle.  

To the wolf’s astonishment, Thorin strode purposefully out along the weakening trunk, raising his sword with intent.  The dwarf king charged at Azog, who met him easily with his warg.  The creature knocked him down within seconds, and the fool was vulnerable.  The others cried out to him as he fought valiantly, some even attempting to rush to his aid, but it was of little use.  Their branches were too fragile, and they had to struggle not to fall to the forest below themselves.  Thorin soon was overwhelmed by Azog and his warg, and he lay prone in the dirt, about to be finished off by an orc soldier.  

So focused on the battle was Isil that she didn’t even see Bilbo charging to the dwarf’s aid until he knocked Thorin’s would-be killer to the ground, stabbing him ferociously.  Soon he was joined by several of the others who managed to find their way up the trunk and to solid ground, turning the tables once again to their favor.  Isil wanted to help them, but she was so preoccupied with not plunging to her doom that she couldn’t move.  Out of the corner of her eye she sees Dori’s grip fail and he and his brother drop, but before she can properly react they are caught and carried away by a large, swift shadow.  Her long ear twitches, and she turns in astonishment to see a flock of massive eagles aiding the company.  They tossed wargs, fanned the flames, and grabbed the dwarves and hobbit one by one.  

Gandalf waited until all the others were out of harm’s way, then looped his arm around the wolf’s middle and jumped, just as the pine’s roots failed and fell from the mountain.  The two landed on one eagle’s back and it followed its brethren, carrying them away into the night, far from the roaring Azog and the remainder of his troops.  The wizard held her tight, holding on to the eagle’s feathery back and looking pensive yet relieved at the same time.  

The flight was thrilling, to say the least.  The wolf’s blood pumped in her ears and she could not help but feel electrified by the sensation of being airborne.  She would have enjoyed it more, if not for the knowledge that Thorin was potentially gravely injured right beside her.  Isil cast a worried glance in his direction; his eyes had not opened since they first took to the air.  The eagles flew the remainder of the night, carrying them a great distance.  In the hour after sunrise they landed atop a rock formation, dropping their passengers off one by one.  Isil, still under Gandalf’s arm, slid with him from the neck of their eagle and followed him to where Thorin was placed.  The others crowded around them, fearful of the condition of their leader.  When he would not respond to traditional methods, the wizard held his hand over his face and whispered a spell.  The dwarf’s eyes immediately snapped open, and after he took a breath, he weakly spoke.  

“The halfling?”

“It’s alright, Bilbo is here,” Gandalf reassured, “He’s quiet safe.”  Thorin’s nephews step forward to help their uncle to his feet, but once he’s up he appears to regain most of his strength and shoves them off with a huff.  

“You!” he barked.  “What were you doing?  You nearly got yourself killed!  Did I not say that you would be a burden?  That you would not survive in the wild and that you had no place amongst us?”

With each word Bilbo’s face became more crestfallen, and Isil nearly sprung forward to bite the bitter old dwarf right on his rump for saying such cruel things.  In fact she took a step in his direction, intending to follow through with that thought, but was stopped by the wizard’s outstretched hand.  She looked up in surprise, but stopped herself when she saw his thoughtful and calculating expression.  Fine.  The wolf could put off her anger for a moment, but not for long.  

Her patience was rewarded as the king’s features softened and he swept the hobbit into an enveloping hug, speaking with deep emotion, humbled.  

“I’ve never been so wrong in all my life.”  Bilbo’s cheeks were dusted pink when the shock wore off, and he hugged back as well as he could.  “I am sorry I doubted you.”  

“No, n-no, I would have doubted me too,” the hobbit said plainly.  “I’m not a hero or a warrior… not even a burglar.”  The little joke at his expense earned him relieved laughter, and an affectionate smile from Isil.  She saw something new in Thorin’s eyes when he looked at Bilbo, a glimmer she hadn’t seen before.  Maybe there’s hope for him and his little crush after all.  

The eagles that rescued them took off, their job done.  Isil mentally thanked them for their service (and made a note to thank Gandalf later; she had a feeling it was his doing that saved them.)  Something in the distance caught the eyes of all in the company: a single solitary peak amid lush, level landscape.  

“Erebor… The Lonely Mountain.  The last of the great dwarf kingdoms of Middle Earth.”  

“Our home.”  Thorin smiled.  A songbird chirped cheerfully as it flew by, with Oin mistaking it for a raven.  Gandalf corrected him, saying it was a thrush.  

“We’ll take it as a sign. ­ A good omen.”  

“You’re right; I do believe the worst is behind us.”  Bilbo smiled confidently.  Isil vaguely recalled that they were on a mission to possibly fight a dragon, which she understands are big and scary.  But she shook that thought from her mind, instead choosing to focus on the present.  They would be off soon, and surely that would only bring more hardships, considering the pattern that led them here.  

For now, all they knew was that it was a beautiful morning, and for the time being the future looked just as bright and promising.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, there you have it! The first movie finished. Only took 11 chapters and many months, haha. I was on a roll with this one; it was fun to write! Might come back later to reread it; fix mistakes or tweak details, stuff like that.


	12. Chapter 12

The week following their daring escape from Azog was trying, to put it mildly.  The company hoped that the generous distance put between them and the pack thanks to the eagles would be enough to throw off their trail, but their escape from the pale orc's clutches only fueled his fury enough to double his efforts.  The warg riders grew closer and closer every day.  

Despite the grueling schedule quickly wearing them all down, Isil noticed a happy development within the group.  Ever since Bilbo leapt to his aid on the cliff, Thorin had taken to seeking the hobbit out for casual conversation when they caught their breath and settled for the night.  It was a welcome change, to say the least - though he hadn't warmed up to her nearly as much.  He had dropped much of his open distaste for Isil's presence knowing that Bilbo had grown fond of her, but she still caught Thorin glaring holes into her back from time to time.  Luckily the others had seen the involvement she had in their rescue as proof enough of her loyalty, and acted more warm and welcoming since.  Friendly pats on the head were given freely and even extra scraps of food were thrown her way on occasion.  Isil enjoyed the shift in attitudes while she could.  

On the second morning since they first climbed atop some small mountain range Isil had forgotten the name of, the company waited in a nervous huddle for Bilbo to come down from scouting.  A distant roar reverberated through the air and the little hobbit scrambled down the cliffside in its wake.  He attempted to give his report, alarm coating his voice, but the company kept cutting in with questions and comments.  While they praised him for his stealth, he grew frustrated and resorted to shouting for their attention.  

“Will you listen - Will you just _listen?!_  I'm trying to tell you there is _something else_ out there!”  The sobering declaration stopped them all short.  Gandalf’s voice was grave as he asked for more information.  

“What form did it take?  Like a bear?”  The question made Bilbo falter.  

"Y-yes!  But bigger, much bigger.”  All eyes were trained on the wizard as he turned and took a few steps from them, deep in thought.  

“You knew about this beast?”  Bofur asked the question all on their minds, but when Gandalf did not answer he began to throw out ideas.  “I say we double back.”  

“And be run down by a pack of orcs,” Thorin immediately rebuffed.  

“There is a house - it’s not far from here - where we might take refuge.”  The wizard’s words were slow and deliberate, as if he was still contemplating them as they were spoken.  

“Whose house?  Are they friend or foe?”  

“Neither.”  The wizard looked grim.  “He will help us, or… he will kill us.”  It appeared they were all between a rock and a hard place.  

“What choice do we have?”  No sooner did Thorin ask the question was it answered by the same thunderous roar, sounding closer than before.  

“None.”  

The company fled as fast as they could toward their destination.  The orc pack practically breathed down their neck and there was no chance for rest.  Halfway through their mad dash the massive bear Gandalf warned them of was spotted chasing them through the trees, making Azog the least of their immediate concerns.  Down hills, through trees, and over creeks they raced, and as they came to a clearing they finally saw what they were looking for: a lonely house in a grassy field.  They reached the door (Bombur colliding with it in his haste), but the bear burst out from behind the trees, and the others struggled to open the lock.  After a stroke of genius from Thorin (why was it so hard for them to lift that one piece of bark?!) they threw open the doors and poured inside.  The bear tried to force it’s head in after them, but the dwarves managed to push it back and lock the doorway behind them.  They were safe.  

“What _is_ that?” Ori panted, out of breath.  

“That is our host,” Gandalf answered pointedly.  They gaped at him.  “His name is Beorn,” he continued, “and he’s a skin-changer.”   _That_ caught Isil’s attention.  So this world did have others like her… sort of.  The wizard examined the house, likely checking its security.  “Sometimes he’s a huge black bear; sometimes he’s a great strong man.  The bear is unpredictable, but the man can be reasoned with.  However,” he paused, looking around the room.  “...he is not overfond of dwarves.”  

Ori watched the bear - Beorn - from a crack in the door and reported that he was on the move.  Dori pulled his brother away and accused the skin-changer of being “under some dark spell.”  

“Don’t be a fool,” Gandalf admonished.  “He’s under no enchantment but his own.”  He ushered them further into the rather cozy home.  “Alright now, get some sleep, all of you.  You’ll be safe here tonight.”  But even as he assured them, his gaze became ominous as he looked back to the door.  “I hope.”  

_‘How soothing of you, Gandalf.  Very calming,’_ Isil thought sarcastically, following the others to explore the residence.  It was made for someone very large, and housed many kinds of farm animals inside.  The walls were decorated with intricate and beautiful carvings, each telling their own story.  They settled in an hour after Thorin insisted they check the whole house for any openings or weaknesses.  The dwarves were obviously grateful to be in a secure setting after so many close calls.  Relaxation was a rare treat now, and they took advantage of the respite to the fullest extent.  As evening fell they gathered around the lit fireplace and ate some of their provisions.  They were running low… if he didn’t kill them first they would have to ask Beorn for extras.   But tonight there was enough to go around for everyone.  

While the dwarves set up camp and cooked their food, Isil took the time to do her own examination of the house.  The intricate carvings captured her imagination, and an oddly nostalgic sensation invaded her mind.  Shaking off the familiar feelings, she walked cautiously past the open pens of the cows.  Strangely, they only sniffed her curiously instead of reacting with fear like most prey animals did around her.  In fact, the ponies she travelled weeks with before never lost their apprehension of her.  The wolf carefully sniffed back, pondering their calm demeanors.  It must be because they were so used to Beorn and his wild aura.  

“Isil!” Bilbo called.  “Come get some food girl, before these dwarves gobble it all up!”  She hurried back, not willing to let that happen.  Sitting around the warm fire, the glow illuminating the room in shades of orange, the dwarves entertained themselves by telling jokes and stories.  Bofur told them how he once got caught up in a scandal a few years back while travelling and trading.  

“We were going with this caravan of traders, y’see, through villages and cities to sell our collective wares.  We’d been down the path before and were quite well known for the reasonable prices and quality of stock - both of which were first-rate, if I do say so myself!  Anyway, Bombur, Bifur, and I had our own little stall to sell handmade knickknacks and trinkets and we always got by.”  He paused here to take a swig of ale.  

“Well we set up shop for a few days in this nice little village - I can’t recall the name - and all’s going just fine.  One day a nobleman and his wife come to our camp for a look-see.  He makes a big show of it too; decked out in what he probably thought was his finery, pretty little jewels on his wifey, and he even drags along his little posse of soldiers for show!  Ha!  Anywho, little did we know that this particular lord had a wife who liked to stir the pot - so to say - to make her husband jealous.  After browsing the grounds for a little bit she makes her way over to our stall and chats me up.  Said she was looking for some souvenirs to send her friends in other towns.  Things are going well, until her husband comes around the corner to take her home.”  He takes another drink, grinning as he recalled the memory.  

“She makes sure he’s watching, then reaches over the counter, grabs my shirt, hauls me up - quite an arm, that lass - and plants a kiss right on my mouth!”  He barks out a laugh, and the others merrily join in.  “Well her hubby wasn’t having any of that!  Came charging down the path right at us, calling his guards for help.  Bifur an’ Bombur saw the whole thing, and they grabbed me up and we spent all day and most of the night hiding after that.”  They all howled in laughter, and the remainder of the evening was spent in good spirits.  

Soon, too soon for some, they all headed to their bedrolls for a long awaited good night’s rest.  Gandalf insisted that a nightwatch was unnecessary, and after a mercifully short discussion Thorin relented.  Isil chose her spot in the middle of the dwarves and felt her eyes droop with little fuss, lulled by her full belly and the warm air.  She curled up and settled, languidly glancing over to Bilbo, who had his back turned to her but was apparently still awake.  

In the moment before she drifted off, she could have sworn she saw a glint of gold between his fingers, but the next second slumber claimed her and all was forgotten.  

* * *

Warm morning rays and the hushed whispers greeted Isil when she woke.  Wincing against the sunlight she yawned and stretched, blinking the sleep from her eyes.  While trying to get the taste of morning breath out of her mouth she turned to the muffled murmurs and saw the dwarves and Gandalf gathered around a window, peering at something outside.  The comments the gold-faced wolf overheard as she approached ranged from awe to trepidation.  

“Look at the size of him!  He’s taller than even Gandalf!”

“He looks as though he could rip us in half without even breaking a sweat…”

“It’s just not _natural._  Come on, have you ever heard of such a thing?”  

Isil ignored that last comment (which further cemented her belief that telling them what she was was a bad idea) and nosed her way through the mob.  Standing on her hind legs she looked through the glass and was greeted with the sight of a hulking, stalwart man hefting a massive axe and chopping wood atop a tree stump.  Judging the way they were all talking, _this_ was their host from before: the giant bear that attacked them yesterday.  He certainly _looked_ like a bear given human shape.  

“I say we should leg it and slip out the back way!” Nori suggested.

“I’m not running from anyone, beast or no.”  Dwalin’s pride was as formidable as ever.  

“There is no point in arguing!” Gandalf stops the fight before it can begin.  There was no going further without Beorn’s aid, he explained, since Azog was certainly just waiting for them to get far enough for the skin-changer to attack.  They would never reach the forest in time, much less survive through it considering their empty supply stock.  

Bilbo chose this moment to join them, and Gandalf acknowledged him accordingly.  

“This will require some delicate handling; we must tread carefully,” the wizard stated, walking to the door.  “The last person to have startled him was torn to shreds.”  The last words were spoken deliberately, to fully impart their significance on the dwarves.  They all clammed up rather hastily after that.  “I will go first and - Bilbo?” he beckoned the hobbit to him, “and Isil -” then to her, “- will come with me.”  

Both Isil and Bilbo adopted the same baffled expressions, and the latter voiced his concern.  Gandalf had the decency to explain himself for once.  

“As I’ve said before, he is not fond of dwarves, so crowding him with thirteen all at once would be unwise.  Bilbo, you are as polite and diplomatic as any respectable gentlehobbit should be -” despite the compliment Bilbo only glared incredulously at him “- which should aid us when we ask for his cooperation and supplies.  As for you Isil, Beorn favors animals over all other company, much like Radagast.”  The wolf cringed at the memory of being manhandled by that most peculiar wizard.  

_‘Sure Gandalf, I just_ love _being used as bait,’_ she thought sarcastically as he laid the ground rules for introductions.  She looked up at Bilbo just as he glanced down at her, fear plain in his eyes.  Then, side by side, they followed the wizard out the door and down the dirt path.  Isil alarmingly overheard Bofur ask what the signal was, but by then it was too late to pull them back.  

As they took their first faltering steps towards the giant man chopping wood a few feet before them, Isil noted Gandalf’s twitchy, anxious body language.  Bilbo, noticing it too, called him on it,

“You’re nervous!”  The wizard’s head snapped to the hobbit at the accusation, but snapped back when he heard Beorn’s axe split another log in two.  

“Nervous?” he started, trying to save face, “Bah, nonsense.”  

_‘Oh yes you are!  I could smell it on you a mile away,’_ Isil thought, keeping pace with the two.  She could hardly blame him though; if what he said about this skin-changer was true he (and by extension she) had plenty reason to be.  The wolf watched Gandalf smooth himself down to give a watery greeting to the giant man.  He didn’t answer.  Gandalf cleared his throat and tried again, this time successfully.  Radiating irritation, Beorn straightened, but didn’t turn.  

“Who are you?”  His voice was low and rumbling, like boulders falling from a mountainside.  

“I am Gandalf, Gandalf the Grey,” he introduced himself genially, bowing.  Beorn faced them suddenly, startling both Bilbo and Isil into hiding behind the wizard.  

“Never heard of him,” the skin-changer replied bluntly.  Gandalf, seemingly not used to being unrecognized by the general public, stammered through a more detailed explanation.  But Beorn cut him short before he could get too far into pleasantries with a simple, “What do you want?”  

“Simply to thank you for your hospitality.  You may have noticed that we took refuge in your lodgings here last night -” he turned to gesture to said lodgings, and as he did he exposed Bilbo from his hiding spot.  Intense amber eyes immediately focused on the little being suddenly in view.  

“Who is this little fellow?”  Cover blown, Bilbo tried to steel his expression into neutrality as Gandalf acquainted the bear-man to the hobbit.  “He’s not a dwarf, is he?” he asked, changing his hold on his axe to something more battle-ready.  Isil, unwilling to let the aggressive movement against her friend slide, emerged from behind gray robes with a warning growl and put herself between Bilbo and Beorn.  Beorn, upon seeing her, deflated and relaxed to become as non-threatening as possible for a man his stature.  He crouched and held out one of his hands, resting his axe in the crook of his shoulder.  

Isil was intrigued, yet hesitant.  With curiosity winning out, she leerily stepped up to smell the offered hand, eyes darting up to his face every few seconds.  She sniffed it, and was pleasantly surprised at the scents she could identify.  Fresh soil was of course the dominant smell - he had been recently walking around as a bear - but behind that was a myriad of other aromas.  Honey, bread, sugar, and even spices were the secondary scents, followed by cedar, grass, and flowers.  Isil pressed her nose into his palm, riveted.  As she inspected, Gandalf explained that Bilbo was a hobbit, not a dwarf as Beorn thought.  The wizard motioned to her, saying that they picked her up in the forests of Bree after they ran into a spot of trouble.  

“A halfling,” he started, scratching Isil under her chin, “a wolf, and a wizard.  How come you here?”  

“Oh, well the fact is that we’ve had a bad time of it,” Gandalf explained.  “From goblins, in the mountains.”  

“What did you go near goblins for?   _Stupid_ thing to do.”  

“You are absolutely right!” Gandalf punctuated the sentence with mollifying gestures.  “No argument here, no.”  Unfortunately, Bofur mistook this as the signal.  When Beorn first saw Dwalin and Balin step out of the doorway the air shifted from tranquil to livid, and he jumped up, holding his axe before him defensively.  The sudden movement startled Isil and she scrambled back to Gandalf as he attempted to mediate the situation.  “I-I must confess that several of our group are in fact… dwarves.”  

“Do you call two several?!”

“N-now when you put it that way…”  

It went on like that for a few more awkward minutes, with Gandalf accidentally ‘signalling’ the dwarves two by two until all that was left was Thorin, who remained as regal as ever, emerging from the doorway to glare at Beorn.  The skin-changer, perhaps recognizing the dwarf prince, begrudgingly took them back into his home to offer them food.  To Isil’s disappointment, there was not one piece of meat to be found.  The food that was offered however, she found after a taste, made up for it tenfold.  Cakes, bread, berries, biscuits covered in honey, and fresh vegetables were only a small sample of the edibles offered.  Beorn set a place for Isil at the table along with the others as if it was the most natural thing in the world.  No one dared to question it.  Conversation in general was… sparse.  For once, the wolf was glad she was assumed voiceless, and devoured the food before her.  The skin-changer was the first to break the silent stalemate.  

“So you are the one they call Oakenshield.  Tell me, why is Azog the Defiler hunting you?”

“You know of Azog?”  Thorin bristled at the orc’s name.  “How?”  

“My people were the first to live in the mountains, before the Orcs came down from the north,” he explained, refilling mugs as he went.  “The Defiler killed most of my family, but some he enslaved.”  Thick metal cuffs clinked around his wrist as he poured.  “Not for work, you understand, but for sport.  Caging skin-changers and torturing them seemed to amuse him.”  Isil swallowed the biscuit she had been chewing hard.  Just another reason to remain incognito.  

“There are others like you?” Bilbo bravely ventured, curiosity trumping fear.  

“Once there were many.”  

“And… now?” he pressed.  

“Now there is only one.”  His answer hung heavy in the air.  The company was eerily silent.  Isil’s mind lingered on the morbid words.  Shape-changers were uncommon in these lands, enough to where the dwarves had never heard of them, and now the species was one life away from extinction.  

The conversation continued around her.  Gandalf spoke of a place called Mirkwood, but Beorn described it’s fall from grace and subsequent danger.  

“...But it matters not.”  

“What do you mean?” Thorin asked, his expression darkening at the hinted challenge.  

“These lands are crawling with Orcs.  Their numbers are growing, and you are on foot.  You will never reach the forest alive.”  Alarmed faces looked around the table at each other then back to Beorn.  The skin-changer rose from his seat, stalking towards the dwarf prince.  “I don’t like dwarves.”  He ducked below a ceiling beam.  “They’re greedy and blind - blind to the lives of those they deem lesser than their own.”  He picked up a mouse from the table that had been brushed from Bofur’s sleeve seconds before.  He cradled the tiny creature in his massive hands, examining it carefully.  “But Orcs I hate more.”  Thorin looked surprised.  “What do you need?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: i'm back! been a few months. it's been a hard year; probably the worst year of my life! wowie! but, i gotta look towards the future and i'm gonna do my best to keep my head held high and hope for the best. there was more to this chapter, but i decided to break it off here since i wasn't sure where to end it before and knew it might take a while to write the rest. this chapter is pretty long anyway. hope to have the next one out soon!
> 
> (ps - i also have a separate work you can find from my profile that contains illustrations to go with the story, in case i don't put them in alongside the chapters themselves)


	13. Chapter 13

Beorn agreed to supply them for the journey ahead, as the forests of Mirkwood provided only poisoned food and water.  He also agreed to supply transportation through use of his ponies, to outrun the pursuing orcs.  The company would stay one more night inside the skin-changer’s home, to rest and ready themselves for the journey ahead.  

Evening crept along the skyline, bringing a false sense of security with it.  Feeling restless after being holed up inside all day, Isil decided to venture out the door to explore Beorn’s gardens knowing that the giant stone wall surrounding them would shield her from prying orc eyes.  With the hopes that she might find more of those delicious blackberries from breakfast, she waded through the tall grasses and brush to find her target.  The wolf followed her nose around a worn pathway to a spot behind a few young trees.  To her surprise instead of the blackberries she found their mercurial host, crouched down in the shade calmly inspecting the berry hedge.  Not wanting to press her luck, Isil attempted to slink away unnoticed, but Beorn spoke before she could even take two steps.  

“Tell me,” he began, not looking away from his task, “how one such as yourself came into the company of a pack of wayward dwarves?”  Isil only stared, frozen, unsure of what to do.  He turned to look at her when she didn’t react.  “I know you can answer me,” he stated, cutting right to the chase.  The wolf tensed, eyes darting back to the house where the dwarves were preparing.  Beorn pulled himself up and walked to an old stump, then sat down on it.  “The plants will hide you here; they will not see.”  

The wolf contemplated her options.  It would be near impossible to evade the skin-changer’s questions in his own home.  Besides, Beorn might be able to give some advice on hiding in plain sight, from enemies… and friends.  Isil took one last look behind her, moving to make sure the house was out of sight before she concentrated and shifted forms.  

“How did you know what I was?” she asked in a raspy whisper.  

“Your eyes,” Beorn grunted.  “A beast’s eyes speaks many things.  Yours had quite a story to tell.”  

 _‘I suppose that makes some sense…’_ Isil shook the perplexed expression from her face to look the skin-changer in the eye.  “Only Gandalf knows.  If the others saw me -”

“They would chase you out or try to kill you.  I know how others react to our kind; they think us ‘unnatural.’”  Isil winced at the wording.  That was exactly how Dori described him just this morning.  She slumped over even further and answered his question.  

“I’ve been following them for months, ever since I helped fight off a group of bandits one night.  Before that, I don’t remember anything about my life.  I don’t even know my own name.”  Beorn tilted his head, intrigued.  So like with Galadriel and Gandalf she told him her story, hoping that perhaps this time she could get some answers in return from the strange bear-man.  As Isil finished, rubbing her scratchy throat strained from speaking, he sat scratching his chin in thought.  She waited for him to say something, anything that might help her understand.  

“I have never heard of any other tale quite like that before.  Yours is an entirely unique story.”  Isil’s hopes were crushed.  Another dead end.  “I am afraid I can offer you no advice for this situation.”  The wolf gathered herself, now somewhat used to the frustration when she hit a wall.  

“Well, in any case, thank you for hearing me out Beorn.  And for letting us take refuge in your home.”   _‘I just wish I knew why I was brought here.  Surely someone else would have been more capable for this mission, whatever it is.’_  As if sensing her thoughts, Beorn placed a massive hand on her shoulder and said,

“Do not doubt yourself; I cannot claim to understand what the Valar do, but the Lady Galadriel puts her faith in your cause, and that is not something to take lightly.”  

“You know Lady Galadriel?” Isil asked in shock.  

“She is one of the few who cares to remember the skin-changers and our history.  I have spoken to her on seldom occasions, but what I know from those conversations is that she is wise.”  He took his hand back.  “It is getting late.  You should find some rest before your journey.”  Isil nodded, but then remembered something.  

“Oh, before I forget, is there a stream nearby?  I’d like to get some of this dirt out of my fur before we leave tomorrow.”  Beorn arched an eyebrow, incredulous and amused.  “Hey, those dwarves might be capable of going without a wash for months on end but I can only tolerate it for so long!  I won’t have all this fur fall out from neglect,” she defended.  He only chuckled, then pointed in the direction of the nearest stream.  

“Don’t take too long.  The sun will set soon,” the skin-changer warned as he stood and lumbered home.  

While she undoubtedly wanted to wash the grime of travel out of her fur, in truth Isil wanted some time alone to process the frustration of having her hopes raised and dashed so quickly.  She still wasn’t entirely convinced of the role everyone else accepted for her so readily.   _‘Maybe I don’t_ want _this responsibility, whatever it is.  Maybe I’d rather just be at home,’_ she thought bitterly.  If only she remembered where home was.  Sighing, she reached the water in less than a minute and eagerly washed away the dirt clinging to her fur.  The wolf was so preoccupied with her task that ten minutes had gone by before she noticed Bilbo washing something in the water downstream.  Surprised, but grateful for one-on-one time with the gentle hobbit, she waded through the brisk water to greet him.  He looked up when she approached and smiled warmly.  

“Ah, Isil.  Come to take a bath as well?”  Up close Isil could now tell that he was trying to clean his travel clothes, and was wearing what looked to be an undershirt.  “I saw the stream earlier and knew this was probably the last chance I’d get to wash up before we head out again.”  He scrubbed his shirt against the stones beneath the clear, cool water, humming to himself.  Isil looked around at the scenery, and decided she was through with her soak and could use some company.  She stepped onto the smoothed rocks along the banks of the stream and shook the excess water from her pelt, much to the dismay of the hobbit.  The wolf only huffed in laughter, easily sidestepping the hand swatting at her.  She stretched and yawned before lazily settling beside him, idly hoping her paws would dry soon so they wouldn’t gather too much dirt when they finally made their way back to the cabin.  

In the lingering rays of the sinking sun the hobbit finished his laundry while the wolf dried her coat, and both returned to the bear-man’s dwelling for the night.  One hearty dinner later and the dwarves were all ready for an early night, knowing that the next day’s expedition would be a long and possibly dangerous one.  They kept their spirits up with soft songs and extra pipeweed given to them by Beorn, until one by one they all fell asleep, with the man guarding his unexpected guests within his home one last time.  

Isil’s dreams were anxious and troubling, but by sunrise they were nothing more than mildly unpleasant lingering feelings.  She took her time waking up while the rest of the company packed their things, wading through them to get outside for a stretch and some air (and to perhaps scrounge up any last minute bits of food she could find).  During her stroll she took in the peaceful sights, sounds and smells and tried her best to commit them to memory: the oversized beez drifting from flower to flower, the wind rustling the leaves, and the early rays of sunlight touching it all.  Isil sighed.  She would miss this place.  After a few minutes of admiring the scenery the wolf heard Beorn’s surprisingly quiet footsteps approach and turned around to greet him.  By then the dwarves were outside, saddling up the borrowed ponies that would take them to their next destination.  

The skinchanger crouched down and clapped a heavy hand on her shoulder.  

“Goodbye, little wolf.  I wish you good fortune and peace on your journey.  I hope that you find the answers that you seek,” Beorn’s voice rumbled softly in his chest.  Isil nodded, grateful for the well wishes despite the dwindling hope on her end.  He glanced upward for a brief second, then back at her.  “I must speak with Gandalf before you leave.  Take care in the forests, for they offer only danger.”  With that warning, he stood and made his way to the gray wizard.  Isil watched him go, considering his words carefully.  There was little time to dwell on it however, as Thorin called for a swift departure.  Gandalf and Beorn lingered for a moment more, grave expressions on their faces as they exchanged their last hushed whispers.  After the wizard mounted his pony and the company rode to Mirkwood, an eerie sensation of being watched crept along their collective necks, though most brushed it off.  

Isil followed alongside the galloping ponies, finding the task easier than she thought it would be yet still difficult because of the speed they travelled at.  Thorin was determined to reach the forest as quickly as possible so he could get through the Elven domain as quickly as possible, and the wolf knew he wouldn’t bother slowing down for her comfort.  That thought alone however was enough to motivate Isil to keep up, just to spite the obnoxious dwarf king.  She would catch her breath partway from the brief breaks they took to let their ponies rest, but it was never enough to fully recover.  Spite was a powerful motivator though, and she stuck the rest of the way through without complaint.  

Lucky for her the ponies made the journey swift, and no orcs ambushed them like they feared would happen, and they reached the edge of the forest at a little over midday.  Isil panted heavily, collapsing on her haunches in exhaustion while the others unloaded their ponies so they could be sent back to Beorn.  As she concentrated on recovery, she heard Bilbo’s voice to her left.  

“This forest feels… sick.  As if a disease lies upon it.  Is there no way around?”  Indeed, the air wafting from the forest tasted acrid to the wolf’s hanging tongue.  When Isil took an experimental sniff of the breeze, the sour hint of rot beneath the stale wind stuck in her nose, making her sneeze.  

“Not unless we go two hundred miles north,” Gandalf answered from the mouth of the forest, “or twice that distance... south.”  

 _‘Wonderful,’_ Isil sighed, the idea of travelling such a distance exhausting her already exhausted body.  Though with how foreboding the forest was she wasn’t too sure either option felt right.  But with time running out they had little choice in this case.  Isil eyed the gnarled, winding branches that reached up to claw at the grey clouds above them and shuddered.  She hoped they wouldn’t have to spend too terribly long in the decaying forest.  The wolf was yanked from her wandering thoughts when she heard Gandalf suddenly call out to Nori just as the dwarf began to unfasten the saddle of the wizard’s steed.  

“Not my horse, I need it!”  The entire company’s heads whipped around in surprise to stare after Gandalf as he trudged over to the horse’s side, ignoring their alarmed looks.  Isil followed Bilbo as he hurried over to the tall wizard.  

“You’re not leaving us?”  The hobbit’s voice was incredulous.  

“I would not do this unless I had to.”  The vague reasoning did little to lift their spirits, and Bilbo’s head fell dejectedly.  Isil too felt the weight of his words fall upon her shoulders.  Travelling through the forest would have been a great ordeal, yes, but having the wizard by their sides would have been an enormous reassurance.  As the wolf moped, Gandalf and Bilbo’s conversation continued until the wizard patted Bilbo’s shoulder and turned away, intending to close the distance between himself and his horse.  But as soon as he turned around he saw Isil’s downcast gaze and took pity.  He knelt down to her level and raised her chin up until her eyes were level with his.  

“Now, now.  That’s enough of that.  Everything will turn out fine,” Gandalf gently reassured.  “I have a job for you, Isil.  Keep an eye on this reckless lot until I return, for me?”  It was obvious his task was only meant as a distraction, but it worked.  Determination replaced gloom and she nodded resolutely.  “Good girl.”  With a final pat on the head, he stood.  “I’ll be waiting for you at the overlook, before the slopes of Erebor,” Gandalf informed the dwarves as he passed them.  “Keep the map and key safe.  Do not enter that mountain without me.”  The last sentence was directed at Thorin, plain from the significant look he gave the king as he passed.  “This is not the Greenwood of old.  There is a stream in the woods that carries a dark enchantment.  Do not touch the water,” he cautioned, mounting his horse.  “Cross only by the stone bridge.  The very air of the forest is heavy with illusion; it will seek to enter your mind and lead you astray.”

“‘Lead us astray’?  What does that mean?”  Bilbo wondered, worry returning in full force.  

“You must stay on the path; do not leave it!  If you do, you will never find it again.”  Gandalf turned his horse away from the forest.  “No matter what may come, stay on the path!” were his last words before he galloped off to wherever he was going.  The remaining members of the company watched him go, contemplating his ominous warning.  Thorin broke through their thoughts, his mind fixed on his destination.  

“Come on, we must reach the mountain before the sun sets on Durin’s Day.”  The dwarf king parted the crowd and led them through the gate.  The company murmured excitedly amongst themselves, concern temporarily forgotten.  Only Isil remained, still staring after the wizard, though he had already disappeared from sight.  Their path was undoubtedly going to be tricky to follow; why else would Gandalf have given them all that forewarning?  She glanced up, staring hard at the quickly clouding sky, rain lightly falling on her face.  The wolf got the sinking feeling that this might be the last time she saw the sky for a long while.  

“Isil?”  She was startled from her foreboding thoughts by Bilbo’s voice.  “Come on girl, let’s get going.”  He beckoned to her with a wave of his hand.  

Right - she had a job to do.  Isil pushed her fears down and hurried to his side, following the dwarves past the entrance and into the dark unknown of the forests of Mirkwood.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi. this took a while cuz i got really depressed in between the last time i updated and now. my dog passed away, and that - compounded with all the family i lost last year - made me feel like nothing was worth doing for a long time. but! i'm trying to get back into things (again), especially since i've had this half finished for months. 
> 
> if you could, leave a comment? crit, corrections, something to make me feel less like i'm shouting into the void is all. thanks!


	14. Chapter 14

Gandalf’s warnings proved uncomfortably accurate.  As soon as she took her first step into the forest Isil felt a fog creep into her mind.  It was easy enough to ignore at first; kept at bay through focusing on the promise of protection given to her by the wizard.  As long as she concentrated on that, Isil believed she could fight the effects of the musty and sickened woods.  The dwarves trudged through the scratchy branches and strangely damp underbrush as they travelled deeper in, doing their best to keep the fog off their own minds their way.  They found their first obstacle around three steady hours of hiking, an ominous warning for the rest of the journey.    

“We’ve found the bridge!” Fili called out from the front of the group.   The rest of the company followed his voice and gathered around the opening of the overpass, but did not cross it.  Hazy eyes gazed confusedly at the wide gap of the broken path before them.  

“We can try and swim it,” Bofur suggested.  

“Didn’t you hear what Gandalf said?” Thorin snapped.  “A dark magic lies upon this forest.  The waters of this stream are enchanted.”

“Doesn’t look very enchanting to me…” the miner replied, looking down into the suspiciously bubbling stream below.  Thorin ignored him.  

“We must find another way across.”  With that order, the others slowly shuffled in different directions, looking for more options.  Isil scratched at the brick below her paws, eyeing the shattered walkway several feet before her.  

_ ‘I bet I could…’   _ While she pondered, thoughts trailing, the others continued their search.  Fortunately they did not have to search long.  Kili drew the attention of the company to a large bundle of hanging vines that grew from one bank to the other.  

“These vines look strong enough.”  He started to cross, but was quickly halted by a commanding voice.  

“Kili!”  Said dwarf and the others turned to their leader, confused.  “We send the lightest first.”  Thorin’s gaze rested on their hobbit companion, who was standing stock still, mesmerized by the river.  The sudden silence snapped his attention up, and - realizing what was happening - instantly turned sour.  He trudged over to Kili and grabbed the closest vine, intending to take the path the dwarf started on, but stopped when a thought sprang to mind.  

“Wait…” he started.  “What about Isil?  How will she get across?”  The dwarves all looked behind themselves, suddenly remembering their wolf companion.  Isil had remained at the edge of the bridge, deep in thought.  Sensing eyes on her, she looked up.  

“No one of us can take on an extra burden.”  Thorin declared, glaring in her direction.  “If the dog cannot cross on its own, then we leave it behind.”  Isil growled at him, inscensed.  He thought she couldn’t take care of herself, did he?  Well!  Anger momentarily clearing the growing fog from her mind, the wolf turned about face, heading back in the direction they all came from.  For a few moments, the group lost sight of her.  Then, a silvery streak shot out from the trees at great speed.  Isil charged forward to the edge of the broken bridge and leapt an impressive twenty feet clear across the water, claws scratching the stone as she landed safely on the other side.  The wolf straightened and turned back to the dwarf king, looking him right in the eye.  

_ ‘What‘dya think of that, eh?’ _ she sneered.  Holding her head up proudly, she trotted along the path until she was looking through the vines directly opposite Bilbo.  The look on the hobbit’s face was a cross between surprise, envy, and dread.  Having no choice but to take the long way across, he grabbed at the first vine and tugged, checking its sturdiness.  Seemingly satisfied, he used it to pull himself to one of the many exposed tree roots to rest his foot on, and then the next, and the next.  Bilbo continued this way for a minute or two, slowly but steadily crossing the bubbling stream, muttering to himself as he did.  Once or twice he nearly made Isil’s heart stop when he stumbled and nearly fell face first into the water, but he always managed to right himself before it was too late.  

With one last jump Bilbo made it to the other side and almost collapsed, out of breath.  Isil neared the hobbit cautiously as he crouched with his head almost touching the ground, wagging his finger at a pebble with his eyes screwed shut.  

“Something is not right,” he grunted.  “This is not right at _ all.”  _  Bilbo’s tone worried the wolf; he sounded strained beyond the exertion it took to cross the river.  He fell leaned back and called out to the rest of them, “Stay where you are!” but the dwarves were already following his path.  “Oh.”  While they gracelessly leapt and tripped from vine to vine, Bilbo slapped himself in the cheeks a few times like he was trying to stay awake.  Isil came up beside him and nosed his face, concerned.  “I’m fine, I’m fine, girl, I’m fine,” he assured, but his voice sounded dreamy and far away.  The two were startled out of their ‘conversation’ when a pair of boots stamped the ground beside them.  

Of course Thorin would be the first to make it across.  

Before either of them could say anything a twig split somewhere to their left, snapping their attention in its direction.  Footsteps could be heard approaching, and Isil tensed alongside the two beside her.  From behind the twisted trees and broken stumps and into the only ray of sunshine the wolf had seen in what felt like forever was a massive pure white stag, nearly glowing against the gloomy backdrop of Mirkwood.   It stood there, pale fur reflecting the light almost ethereally, and just watched the group from it’s place on the bank of the river.  

_ ‘I didn’t think it was possible for anything to survive in this forest,’  _ Isil idly thought, entranced by the creature.  Her reverie was shattered suddenly when a string’s loud crack burst in her ear, and an arrow splintered against a tree behind the hart’s head, startling it into fleeing.  The wolf felt oddly saddened by the deer’s departure, and whipped her head over to Thorin, still holding his bow.  She glared at him, annoyance bubbling in her chest.  

“You shouldn’t have done that.  It’s bad luck,” Bilbo told him, sounding as disappointed as Isil felt.  

“I don’t believe in luck,” the dwarf king growled.  “We make our own luck.”  

As if being immediately punished for his hubris, a loud splash resonated from the river.  Bombur had fallen prey to the water’s spell and fell into a deep sleep.  Isil mentally sighed from the shore as she helplessly watched the dwarves try to retrieve him without sharing his fate.  A foreboding sense of dread that this was far from the last of their troubles grew in the back of her mind.  

She hated being right sometimes.  

* * *

 

Despite her determination to focus on her duty of protection the fog that tickled the edges of Isil’s thoughts grew heavier and heavier.  The forest’s poison wormed its way through her veins, clouding her sight and simultaneously heightening and dulling her senses.  An hour had passed since the dwarves managed to pull the sleeping Bombur from the river onto a makeshift stretcher.  The wolf felt a chilled breeze that reached her core every minute or so yet she never once saw a leaf move without the aid of her paws kicking through it.  Her silver and gold fur dulled quickly under the sick trees as they dropped years of dust and dirt upon the troupe.  Eventually Isil began to nip at shadows that crossed her blurred sight, swearing that they were clawed hands reaching out to grab her.  

Every once in a while however Isil was tugged back from her daze by the voices dwarves, who - when she could hear them over the dull hum in her ears - sounded like they were falling under the same spell.  Their words were slurred and their feet wandered as the forest muddled the world around them.  

How long had they been here, again?  Hours, days?  When was the last time they slept?  Ate?  Time lost meaning, and hunger gnawed at Isil’s belly.  Their supplies, which seemed so plentiful before they left Beorn’s home, had to be carefully rationed.  The ache of empty stomachs and the confusion they all felt only heightened already short tempers.  Isil nearly bit the leg she absently bumped into, startled, but restrained herself.  The others had stopped moving forward, and she dully realised the garbled noises she could hear were part of a conversation.  

“...going round in circles.  We are  _ lost!” _

“We’re not lost.  We keep heading east.”

“But which way  _ is  _ east?  We’ve lost the sun.”

Isil growled, annoyance flaring.  These stupid questions were getting them nowhere.  She paced around the edges of the group as their argument escalated into a fight, anger rising in her gut.  The wolf was tempted to jump into the scuffle just for the hell of it when Thorin’s powerful command broke through her ill-advised line of thought.  

“Enough!  Quiet, all of you!”  His voice dropped to a whisper.  “We’re being watched.”  Those chilling words were enough to snap all of them to attention, ears trained for any noise outside their own.  Isil struggled to listen, still feeling the effects of the forest’s poisons.  Once she could hear past her own thoughts the skittering sounds of beasts echoed from every direction.  

They were surrounded.  

The next few seconds were a terrible, frightening blur.  Massive, shadowy shapes dropped from the air right on top of them.  The more seasoned warriors among the lot reacted the quickest and fought the hardest, but an ambush was an ambush.  Isil whipped her head around around as her companions disappeared one by one left and right, terror shooting up her spine.  It was only a matter of time before she was next.  The last warning the wolf had was a petrifying hiss that froze her in place.  Before she could even think of turning around, pain exploded in her left side, and she was enveloped in an absolute, cold darkness.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im back again! its been a busy few months. been trying to get a permanent job (unsuccessfully) and i got a puppy! she's taking up 90% of my attention now what with the training and all, so that takes a lot of time away from creative stuff. but i have another chapter im gonna post right away so theres that!
> 
> anyway, leave a review please.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Normal dialogue"  
>  _'Isil's thoughts'_  
>  _"~Elvish~"_

Isil drifted endlessly between fearsome heart-stopping nightmares of being chased by a monstrous, pale wraith with biting teeth and tearing claws grabbing for her no matter how fast she ran, and eerie dreams of being alone in an inky void, voiceless, blind, and deaf, unable to run from something she was so sure was there, right _there,_ staring down at her.  

Something was wrong; she knew this wasn’t really real, but try as she might she couldn’t waken.  Every time Isil yelled at herself to _wake up_ she could hear the monsters hunting her booming with cruel laughter, mocking her attempts.   So the wolf continued on the perpetual cycle, running from the ashen phantom until just before it grabbed her, then she is plunged into an empty vacuum.

 

Years could have passed in this hellish limbo for all she knew, but something finally broke through her prison.  Isil felt herself falling, then gently dropping down on soft earth, and light splintered through widening cracks in the darkness.  Her head felt as heavy as a boulder when she finally came to and her legs were as limp as a newborn’s.  Memories came flooding back when the wolf heard voices and she struggled to stand and look for her friends, shaking off the sticky web encasing her.  Isil’s heart nearly leapt out of her throat when a something grabbed and pulled her up on her feet, but the familiar scents all around told the wolf that it was just one of the dwarves lending a helping hand.  She stumbled into a run as control of her limbs returned, following the others through the brush.  Isil looked up to get an idea on what was chasing them, and immediately wished she hadn’t.  Spiders as big as ponies crawled down their massive webs, all coming to get them.

Whatever exit the company was heading for was quickly cut off.  Backed into a proverbial corner, they fought with desperate, angry intensity.  Fear and fury mixed together in Isil’s brain creating the ungraceful but effective method of violence she used against their attackers.  The spiders’ carapaces were tough, but her fangs punctured through just fine when aided by adrenaline.  With tooth and claw she cut their comparatively fragile leg segments open leaving them disabled for the dwarves to take care of, and each of the creature’s eight exposed eyes might as well be targets when faced against her.  Isil was so focused on hacking and biting her way out that she didn’t notice the beings intruding on their fight, until she had an arrow pointed right in her face.  

The company collectively froze.  They were surrounded, again.  How did so many manage to sneak up all at once?  Isil’s ear twitched when she heard the blond one threaten Thorin, eyes still fixed on the arrow in front of her.  The exchange answered her question: these were the woodland elves Beorn warned them about.  A sudden shout in the distance startled them, and Isil knew the voice.

_“Kili!”_ Fili shouted, recognizing it too.  He started to run in the direction he heard his brother calling for help, but Thorin grabbed his coat, stopping him.  Though the threat of the giant spiders obviously still loomed the elves barely moved, and did not lower their weapons to aid the dwarf prince.  Gaze finally torn from the elf’s weapon, Isil could just barely see him through the legs of their captors some yards away, kicking at a spider trying to drag him off.  She whined, fighting back the urge to charge through and help.  Just when she thought she had seen the last of Kili, she heard the sound of an arrow hitting its target, and the spider screeched in agony as it stumbled away from the prince, a feathered shaft embedded deep between its eyes.  A lone red haired elf fought off many other spiders, yet still the elves surrounding them did not move to help.  Isil soon saw why though, as the elf warrior dispatched the remaining monsters in seconds.  She dragged Kili over by the scruff of his coat to the others, and the stunned prince let her without much fuss.  Isil was just as dazed by the elf’s skill, but her reverie was broken by a sudden order.  

“Search them!”  Since she had no pockets to search, Isil was left alone for the moment, save for the guards keeping her in place under the threat of becoming a pincushion.  Her lip curled in agitation, eyes flicking back and forth between the auburn-haired archers.  There was little to find, since the spiders did not take their dwindling supplies with them when they were knocked out and wrapped up, but the elves turned out every pocket and handbag nonetheless.  Only a few of the dwarves had much else but personal items, though Fili was relieved of (most of) his knife collection.  It was only when Thorin’s Orcrist was discovered that they truly found something worth being suspicious about, at least in their minds.  Their blond-haired leader inspected it, at first speaking to himself in that sing-song elvish language that somehow sounded harsh on his tongue.  

_“~This is an ancient Elvish blade.  Forged by my kin.~”_  After expertly twirling and dropping the blade back in his hand, he turned his eye back to the dwarf king, suspicious.  

“Where did you get this?” he asked contemptuously.  

“It was given to me,” Thorin answered truthfully, though with anger barely contained.  The Woodland elf didn’t buy it for a second, and pointed the sword at his throat.  

“Not just a thief, but a liar as well.”  Isil growled at the elf.  She might not like Thorin, not by a longshot, but she was on her last nerve.  She made a promise, after all, and despite the danger they had endured she would still fight to keep it.  The elf only sneered.  He swung Orcrist into the air and barked an order to his men.  The dwarves were pushed and shoved into a line to be marched back to the elves domain.  “Bind their hands,” the elf commanded, then looked down at Isil.  “Muzzle their dog.”  

Isil barely had time to react before multiple hands grabbed her by the scruff and twine was wrapped around her snout.  She tried to resist, but the lingering effects of the spider’s venom combined with post-battle exhaustion made it impossible.  Within seconds her mouth was tied shut and the remaining line was wrapped around her neck and chest, ensuring she would not slip out of her bonds.  A few of the dwarves shouted in protest, but it was pointless.  The ends of her rope were tied to the others, and they were dragged along a path they hadn’t seen in their rush to escape.  

While the group was forced off, Isil overheard Bofur whisper to Thorin “Where’s Bilbo?” and felt her eyes go wide.  In the confusion she did not notice his absence, assuming he was in the same position they were.  But he was missing, and she couldn’t decide if that was good or bad thing.  She had little time to dwell on it, as the elf following her jabbed her side with his bow, goading her to keep up.  With her head kept deliberately low to control the urge to fight back so she wouldn’t cause any more trouble for the dwarves, Isil missed the red-headed elf warrior purse her lips tightly in a subtle but telling act of disapproval.  

Still, frustration boiled in the wolf’s gut as she was pulled along behind the others, but the company was helpless and at at the mercy of their captors.  They could only hope that their little burglar was unharmed, and able to come to their rescue somehow.  Though as they were tugged across a narrow bridge and crossed the threshold between the untamed forest and a massive elven fortress Isil could not imagine how.  The great stone gate closed behind them with a thunderous clang, and to the despairing wolf it also sounded like the sealing of their fate.  

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> look, two whole chapters just like i said! and wow, isil's first impression of the woodland elves is pretty bad! sucks for her. i've looked over both chapters a few times but i might have to go back at some point and fix some stuff up. i'm also trying to rewrite the first few chapters, to go along with some stuff i've decided for the story. hopefully i'll be able to upload it soon.
> 
> ok review, if you will plz.
> 
> EDIT 9/8/16: i just updated the first two chapters! check them out if you want  
> EDIT 9/20/16: updated with an illustration! find the other pics to accompany the story on my profile page.


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